A Hole in her Heart
by JustiniaKorax
Summary: After becoming a vampire, Elena remembers everything Damon compelled her to forget - including a memory that leaves her devastated. The fall out from this heartbreaking revelation results in Damon leaving MF for a time. When he finally returns, their normal dynamic has been reversed. Now it's up to Elena to convince him to give their love a chance. Much sexiness & profanity DELENA
1. Chapter 1

**_Okay, so I don't know if this is even the kind of story anyone wants to read, but it's the one that's been in my head and wouldn't go away until I wrote it down, so I might as well share it. It's not going to be soft and fluffy, until maybe the very end. Rather, it's going to be tense and anguished and tormented, and D/E are going to fight and say nasty things to each other that they don't mean and have angry sex when they can't deny the passion between them. They'll get their happy ending, but the journey towards it will be rough and painful and they'll have to work for it. So, anyway, be forewarned. :)_**

 ** _This story starts right after 3x22 when Elena dies and awakens with vampire blood in her system. There's no being kidnapped and taken to Pastor Young's farm or any of that. She simply returns home and makes the choice to become a vampire. She then has to live with the consequences of that decision._**

* * *

"Go away, Stefan, please."

There was a moment of silence before his voice filtered through her closed bedroom door. "You shouldn't be alone right now, Elena."

"Please, just go. I can't - " She closed her eyes. "I just can't right now, okay?" she finished lamely. She wasn't trying to be cruel to Stefan, she just needed to be alone right now, to process everything that had happened, everything she'd lost since the moment of her death.

With her newly magnified hearing, she actually heard the rustling of his clothes as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, as though he were conducting an internal debate. With his enhanced strength, her door was no actual barrier should he decide he wanted in, but to her great relief, he ultimately complied with her wishes. His footsteps faded away as he went downstairs and out the front door.

Her eyes slowly reopened, and Elena stared at her reflection in the mirror above her dresser. She was a vampire now. Had been for about an hour now. How could she still look exactly the same when everything felt completely different? Her mouth was filled with the coppery taste of blood, and it was delicious, which completely freaked her out. The world around her, the same room she'd slept in her entire life, was now an abrasive assault on her senses. Lights were too bright, sounds too loud, smells too intense.

When she'd first awakened after drowning in Wickery Creek, she'd clung to the hope that there would be some loophole, some way out of this awful choice: become a vampire or die a second time. But, as usual, Damon was right. There'd been no door number three. None of her friends managed to scrounge up a cure or a magic workaround. So at the last second, as her body weakened and she felt herself withering away, she surrendered hope and fed on human blood from a blood bag that had been delivered by a scornful Damon who snapped, "For when you feel like facing reality," before he deposited it in the fridge and left. The blood was delectable, heavenly, the best thing she'd ever tasted in her entire life, and she squeezed every last drop down her throat and, still craving more, turned into a vampire. A monster. She was ashamed of her choice, but in those final moments facing a true death, feeling the fragility of her mortal body as it weakened and atrophied, she realized she wasn't ready to die, no matter that she'd told herself she was. It was just too soon. She hadn't seen enough, done enough, experienced enough. Not yet. So she became a monster.

To make matters worse, on top of dying and becoming a vampire, she was … remembering things, things she'd been compelled to forget when she was human, and she couldn't face them with Stefan around. The memories were too complicated, too overwhelming.

The first memory to come flooding back was one of her and Damon right here in her bedroom. She watched her memory replay like a remote third viewer as Damon confessed his inadequacy as well as his love for her and returned the necklace Stefan had given her. When a single tear leaked from one pale blue eye, her heart twisted painfully.

Before she had time to even try and process the thorny tangle of emotions that stirred up, something else, another memory struggled to rise to the surface of her mind, something she didn't think she could bear knowing, a memory that would shatter her in half if she let it in. There was this piece of her brain shrouded in grey mist, and she desperately wanted to keep that mist in place, to maintain that concealing cover over whatever lay beneath. She didn't want the grey to clear, didn't want things to come into focus. Whatever it was would only make this already terrible day worse.

She jumped at a loud splintering sound only to realize that she had caused it. Her fingers had dug into the top of the dresser and cracked the wood. She stumbled away, making her way to the wide ledge under her window, and collapsed on the cushions, drawing her legs to her chest and resting a cheek on top of a knee, fighting the resurgence of forgotten memories with all her strength.

Despite her resistance, piecemeal flashes embedded themselves like little splinters in her brain and wouldn't let her look away, no matter how much she couldn't bear to deal with the truth they told. No matter how hard she tried, the pieces continued to accumulate until the fog whisked away as if it'd never been at all. The memory swallowed her whole and she remembered everything.

* * *

" _Katherine."_

 _Elena looked up and spotted the most startlingly attractive man she'd ever seen, a man who'd appeared out of nowhere. "No – um – I - " She darted a glance over her shoulder. Surely, he wasn't talking to her. But there was no one else in sight. "I'm Elena."_

" _Oh, you – you just look ..." His gaze swept over her. "I'm sorry, you just really remind me of someone. I'm Damon."_

 _She gave him a quizzical look. "Not to be rude or anything, Damon, but it's kind of creepy that you're out here in the middle of nowhere."_

" _You're one to talk. You're out here all by yourself."_

" _It's Mystic Falls. Nothing bad ever happens here." Her eyes met his, and she took the opportunity to study him. He wore a black leather jacket, black jeans, and black boots. Even his hair was a shiny, artfully mussed jet black. Only his flawless, almost unnaturally pale skin and the most intense pair of glacial blue eyes provided any color. Though he had a total bad boy vibe going on, she felt drawn to him, like she could talk to him and he would listen, understand._

 _Maybe that's why she opened her mouth and volunteered, "Got into a fight with my boyfriend."_

" _About what?" He raised his hands placatingly. "May I ask."_

" _Life, future, he's got it all mapped out."_

" _And you don't want it?"_

" _I don't know what I want."_

" _Well, that's not true. You want what everybody wants."_

" _What, mysterious stranger who has all the answers?"_

" _Hm, well, let's just say I've been around a long time. I've learned a few things."_

 _She narrowed her eyes. He didn't look all that old. Older than her, certainly, but young enough to be a college student. Maybe he went to Whitmore College, the local school only an hour away? "So, Damon, tell me. What is it that I want?"_

 _He moved nearer, and her body prickled with awareness. "You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, an adventure, and even a little danger."_

 _Okay, that did sound pretty amazing. "So, what do you want?"_

His mouth opened, and there was a second of hesitation where he didn't move or say anything, just looked at her as if she'd asked him a confusing question and he wasn't quite sure how to answer. Then, faster than the eye could follow, he appeared directly in front of her, close enough that she felt his warm breath on her face. His scent permeated her senses – rich leather from his jacket and a hint of dark spices that was all him. It was wonderfully masculine and deeply arousing.

Her eyes met his, and she couldn't look away. His pupils dilated, and it was the most interesting thing she'd ever seen. He had stunning, gorgeous, incredible eyes. The most amazingly beautiful eyes. They were so … _blue_.

He spoke, and the words floated into her brain and stayed there, quickly becoming as real as her own thoughts and as indistinguishable. "I want you to call your ride and tell them to turn around. You decided to stick around a little while longer."

Immediately, she did just that, raising her phone to her ear. She got her mother on the line and repeated that she'd changed her mind about leaving. Her mother asked if she was alright, and Elena assured her that she was, though she did sound a little robotic and off, even to her own ears. Whatever. It wasn't important.

Once she'd convinced her mom and hung up, her attention returned to the man standing in the road with her. He smiled wickedly, one corner of his mouth turned up higher than the other. "Good girl. Now, without a fuss, you're going to go for a ride with me."

"Okay," she agreed, still mesmerized by his piercing blue eyes. "Where's your car?"

He stepped back and gestured with a gentlemanly sweep of his arm for her to proceed down the road away from the party.

Inhaling a deep breath of crisp night air, she set off gamely. It was a lovely, tranquil night. Trees stretched toward the sky on either side of the road. The moon shone like a bright, swollen eye, making it easy to see the sexy baby blue muscle car waiting on the side of the road just around the first bend. He opened the door for her, and she got in. As he started the car, she snuck a surreptitious glance in his direction, trying to hide the direction of her gaze through a veil of long lashes. He was striking, exotic, utterly out of place in quiet, boring Mystic Falls, and she couldn't help but wonder what he was doing here and why he'd taken an interest in her. Was it simply because she reminded him of someone he knew? And why in the world had she agreed to go somewhere, _anywhere_ , with someone she didn't even know?

Her appraisal wasn't as covert as she'd hoped, and he looked at her sideways. "Yes?"

Embarrassed, she dropped her gaze to her lap. "It's just – I never do this sort of thing, and I'm not really sure why I am now."

"Never do what?"

"Go for rides with strangers."

"We're not strangers." His mouth quirked up smugly. "I'm Damon and you're Elena. See?"

She raised her eyes to his and smiled sweetly.

He maneuvered his car into the road and took off dangerously fast, heading out of town.

To break the silence, she asked, "So, Damon, what brings you to Mystic Falls?"

"Let's just say I have some unfinished family business."

"You have family here? Who?" Chances were good she'd know them. Mystic Falls was the sort of place where everyone knew everyone else.

"Last name's Salvatore."

"Oh, then you must mean Zach Salvatore who lives at the boarding house."

His lips curled, indicating amusement. "Yes, he's a … distant relative."

When he didn't volunteer any more information, she asked, "Where are we going?" She expected him to say something like a restaurant or a store – though it was already pretty late and not much was still open in Mystic Falls at this hour.

What he said was, "My hotel room."

She started. "Your _hotel room_?"

He smirked. "Yeah, you know that thing you rent when you need a place to spend the night?"

"I can't go to a hotel with you!"

"Well, you are, so…" He shrugged and shot her a predatory look that left her unsure whether she wanted to be captured or not.

The rest of the short drive was completed in silence. Soon, he pulled off the main road and parked in front of their final destination, a run-down motel just beyond the farthest outskirts of town. There was only a handful of other cars in the parking lot. As he exited the car, she debated what she should do, but really, what were her options? She could stay with him, or she could sit here in his car by herself. Even though she knew next-to-nothing about him, she trusted her gut, and her gut insisted that he wouldn't hurt her. Praying she was right, she got out and followed him through one of the many doors on the outside of the building.

The room they entered was old and had clearly seen better days. An anemic-looking bedspread covered the double bed, the carpet was worn and drab, and the color scheme was washed out and far from trendy. The only source of light, a small lamp above the bed, graced the room with more shadows than illumination.

"Nice, very homey," she commented sarcastically.

He shed his jacket, tossing it carelessly onto a chair. That left him in a tight, v-neck black shirt that clung to him like a satisfied lover. "I can't have people knowing I'm in town yet," he informed her, "so I'm stuck out here where the accommodations are less than ideal."

"Why can't anyone know you're here?"

He leveled a censorious stare at her, though his lips curved up slightly to soften the look. She blushed.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "that was rude and none of my business."

Moving with the uncanny grace of a jungle cat on the prowl, he sauntered away from her towards the tiny table on the opposite side of the room. "Sorry, there's not much in the way of … anything. I can offer you some bourbon." He held up the bottle to show her.

"No, thanks," she declined demurely. She'd downed a few beers at the party and felt slightly buzzed, but she figured it'd be a good idea to preserve what wits she had left. Besides, straight bourbon sounded disgusting.

He poured himself a glass, then said, "So, tell me more about this boyfriend of yours."

"Matt?" She laughed once, a short, staccato sound. "What do you want to know?"

"Do you love him?"

"Yes," she said quickly, defensively. Inhaling deeply, she continued more softly, "We've been best friends forever, and I _do_ love him. But I don't think I'm _in_ love with him, and that's the problem. The person you're with should make you feel free and glad that you're alive, not trapped or obligated. Don't you agree?"

Rather than answer, he asked, "So that means you're planning to break up with him?"

"Yeah, I just need to find the right way to do it. I don't want to hurt him."

"Good luck with that. You seem like the sort of girl who'd leave a guy devastated."

Her eyes narrowed. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Just a hypothesis based on my own personal experience." He raised his glass to his lips and took a sip. Several raven strands of hair tumbled haphazardly across his temples.

"Have you ever been in love?"

His mouth tightened. "Once. It was painful and overrated, and I don't recommend it."

She recalled their conversation in the middle of the road. "Katherine?"

He didn't answer, but she could read the affirmation in the tense lines of his body.

"I remind you of her," she observed.

"Very much so." He stared at her with the bold stare of someone who knows that you know you're being stared at but doesn't care and continues to stare anyway. A shiver raced down her spine. She'd never been looked at like that by a man before. It was a hot, hungry look that made her brain want to run away screaming but her body want to stay and investigate the promise in that look. The promise of something she had no experience with but recognized deep down as deeply, darkly sexual.

She wrapped her arms around herself, unnerved by his brazen appraisal. "You shouldn't give up on love just because of one girl. I'm sure you'll meet the right one someday."

"Doubt it." His tone was cold, his words clipped.

She didn't know how to respond to that, so she turned and looked at the scratched, beat-up dresser behind her. There was nothing on it, no clues about the personal life of this man. In fact, there was nothing personal in here at all, just his black leather jacket now slung over the back of the only chair and a bottle of bourbon along with a couple of glasses probably scrounged from the bathroom.

Suddenly, she sensed him behind her, like _right_ behind her. His presence was a wall of heat at her back, his breath a dark breeze on her skin. Hair stirred on the nape of her neck. Was he _smelling_ her hair? She whirled around accusingly.

He was so close that she lurched back and bumped into the dresser. His dark, spicy scent filled her lungs, intoxicating her. Every cell in her body sparked to life, and her heart fluttered like a small bird trapped beneath a cat's paw.

"How did you do that?" she snapped, off-kilter by his unexpected proximity.

"Do what?" He wore a lazy, arrogant smile.

"You were just standing on the complete opposite side of the room."

"Huh, that is weird." His eyes did that dilation-thing again, ensnaring her gaze. "Tell me what you're thinking at this exact moment."

Words spilled unbidden from her lips before she was even aware of what she was saying. "I'm thinking that I should be completely freaked out by you, but I'm not. I mean, you _are_ freaky, but mostly I just feel drawn to you, and I don't know why." Her gaze went to his mouth. "And I – I want to know what it's like to kiss you."

 _WHAT? Why did she say that out loud?!_ She touched her temple and frowned slightly, mystified by her behavior. She was acting so oddly tonight.

Surprised flickered in the icy depths of his blue eyes. "You're not afraid of me? What if I was a serial killer?" He sounded almost insulted.

Her hand fell away from her face. "You're dangerous, I can feel that, but no, not in a way that scares me."

A muscle ticked in his cheek and he snapped coldly, "Then you're an idiot."

Biting her lip, she looked away.

"But," he conceded, "I have to admit, I also find myself curious." He snagged her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her face back to his with enough pressure that she winced. Leaning close, he brushed his lips over hers, a feather-soft lingering that heated her blood and sent her heart racing. That one exploratory kiss affected her more than the heaviest make-out session with Matt ever had. It wasn't even a close contest.

He didn't stop with her mouth but continued down along the line of her jaw, then lower, over the throbbing pulse in her neck. A split-second of sharp pain penetrated her hazy lust and she jerked away from him, slapping her hand to her neck. Her palm encountered wetness, and without even needing to look, she knew she was bleeding.

"What the hell?" she gasped, and then her pain was forgotten as she got a good look at his face. The whites of his eyes had been consumed by red, and veins pulsed and danced around his eyes just beneath the skin. There was a tiny smear of crimson on his bottom lip, and she watched horrified as his tongue darted out and swiped it away. He looked like a monster.

"What are you?"

He failed to respond.

"What _are_ you?" she demanded. "Are you a demon?"

"Definitely not an angel," he drawled as the veins regressed and disappeared and the red drained from his eyes, so that he once again looked like nothing more than a stunningly gorgeous man.

She swallowed hard. "Are you evil?"

His smile slipped. "Sure you don't want that drink?"

She recognized his question for what it was: an evasion tactic. Wonderful. There was only one reason someone would avoid answering that question: because they _were_ evil. She pressed trembling lips together and collected her wits enough to nod. She would take that drink right now, thank you very much.

When he moved away, finally granting her enough space to breathe, she took an abrupt seat on the bed, hands gripping the edge with white-knuckle force.

While he poured her a glass, she briefly contemplated jumping up and trying to make a run for the door. But she recalled how quickly he'd moved on the road and again when he'd come up behind her just a minute ago, far faster than any human had the ability to move. She sensed she wouldn't be able to outrun him.

He noticed her death grip on the mattress. "Don't start being afraid now. You'll get really boring _really_ fast."

Earlier, he'd made what she thought was a joke about being a serial killer, so she asked, "Are you going to kill me?"

His head tilted to the side and his eyelids lowered a fraction of an inch. "I haven't decided yet."

He handed her a filled glass. She took it with a shaky hand, concentrating on bringing it up to her lips without spilling or dropping it. She tilted the glass back and drained the entire thing in a few huge swallows. Oh my god, it burned like the fires of hell. It scorched off the top layer of skin on her tongue and throat. Eyes watering, she coughed several times. She shuddered and handed the glass back to him. "Another."

He made an amused sound low in his throat and obliged her. As he passed the refilled glass back to her, she caught sight of black lettering on the inside of his forearm: _Hic et Nunc_.

"What does your tattoo say?" she asked. Okay, yeah, that question was completely inane, but she was desperate to think of anything other than what she'd just seen. Maybe if she kept him talking, he'd be too preoccupied to hurt her. Unlikely, but it was all she could come up with.

"It's Latin. _Here and Now_. It's a subtle reminder not to dwell on the past."

"Does it work? I mean, does it help you to forget?"

"Given that I'm here to settle some old family business, not as well as I'd like."

"This family business, does it involve Katherine?"

He hesitated before responding with, "I like you. Beautiful _and_ clever."

Her heart skipped a beat. He thought she was beautiful? "How'd she hurt you?"

He stared down into his whiskey glass, lips pressed into a thin line. He appeared to be debating not _what_ he should say but whether he should say anything at all. At last, he remarked, "I have this brother, younger, less handsome, much less charming. He would like you, by the way. You're his type." Damon smiled as if he'd just told a joke. "Anyway, Katherine decided she wanted us both. It didn't end well." All humor fled. "It was never just me."

The tortured look on his face lasted only the length of a heartbeat, but it summoned all of her compassionate and nurturing instincts to the fore. Her fear melted away as she realized that underneath the defensiveness and cynicism was pain. A lot of it. And for some reason, that mattered to her.

She rose and ventured close, wary because she felt a bit like some naïve idiot who was going to try and pull a thorn out of a panther's paw and would no doubt wind up getting eaten in the process, but also unable to deny her need for him – to _comfort_ him, she amended quickly, sharply, not at all pleased by her mental Freudian slip.

After setting her glass down on the table, she turned into him and ghosted fingertips over his forearm, along the tattoo that stood out vividly against his pale skin, startling herself with her daring. Muscles flexed like cords of steel at her touch, and he frowned down as if surprised by her voluntary caress.

The tremor of desire that coursed through her at the simple contact was shocking and utterly nonsensical. She ought to be too terrified to feel any desire. But then nothing about this night had made any sense ever since her moonlit conversation with this enigmatic man while standing in the middle of the road.

She stared up at him, and their eyes locked together. The moment stretched out between them, pregnant with possibility, and she could swear she detected the slightest vulnerability lurking in those hooded, predatory eyes. As if he feared that _she_ would hurt _him._ Which was ridiculous.

"I'm sorry she hurt you," she whispered.

"It was a long time ago," he whispered back.

And yet it obviously still bothered him.

Her hand rose and with gentle fingers, she touched his face, pale as moonbeams in the shadowy motel room. She explored the sharp slash of cheek bone, the slight hollow below, the generous, pink curve of his lips, unable to stop thinking about what he'd said to her in the road.

 _Passion._

 _Adventure._

 _Danger._

He represented all of those things, and right now she couldn't come up with a single reason why she shouldn't seize this moment with both hands and hold on for the ride. Of course she knew that reasons existed, she just couldn't remember any of them. And, hey, she'd already done a bunch of really out-of-character things anyway, so why stop now?

Deciding to stick with that motto, she pressed her lips to his for the briefest of moments, and it felt like being shocked with an electrical current. When she drew back, he was looking at her like she was something remarkable, something he didn't quite understand but desperately wanted to. Then he blinked and the look vanished.

He warned, "I'm the wrong person to tease, little girl."

"I'm not trying to tease you," she said.

"What _are_ you trying to do?" His eyes were narrow, suspicious.

She answered him by rising on her tip toes and kissing him again, more firmly than before.

He quickly took over, changing the tone of their kiss to one that was wild and senseless and strangely liberating. His mouth tasted simultaneously sweet and fiery like the bourbon he'd been drinking, and his tongue expertly stroked hers. Her body responded instantly to the overwhelming sensory overload, fire sizzling in her veins. One of his hands grabbed the back of her head to prevent her from pulling away and the other snagged her waist and molded her into the hard lines of his body, including one particular hard, swollen line that pressed insistently against her belly.

As his mouth moved covetously over hers, she wondered what on earth she was doing. She would never in a million years do something like this, and yet here she was in a hotel room with a man (maybe?) whom she barely knew, and they were making out, and she wasn't stopping him because she didn't want him to stop.

And it didn't help that he was so mind-bogglingly sexy.

Obviously, her brain had short-circuited completely. He was right – she was an idiot.

The hand in her hair tightened abruptly, her scalp prickling with discomfort. He abandoned their kiss and pressed his forehead against hers, breathing with labored inhales and ragged exhales. His powerful frame thrummed with tension, like a rubber band about to snap at any moment.

As he wrestled with himself for some reason that she couldn't decipher, she allowed her hands to begin a sensual exploration, slipping under his shirt and moving along hard ridges of muscle that clenched in the wake of her touch.

A soft puff of air floated against her cheek when he laughed. It was a low, seductive sound. "You definitely aren't making this easy."

"Making what easy?" she asked, hands never ceasing their journey. She found and circled a nipple which stiffened.

"Doing the right thing."

"And what is the right thing?" She was hoping he'd tell her, because her moral compass was desperately compromised at the moment.

"I honestly can't remember." His mouth slanted over hers again, and while their tongues tangled, she pushed his shirt up and he quickly, deftly discarded it. She caressed the smooth, taut skin with abandon, then took a step back so she could admire the body she'd just been wantonly stroking.

Holy crap. He was as perfect as any marble statue in a museum, every lean, white inch carved by the loving hands of a master sculptor. There were defined pectorals and chiseled abs and a yummy line of black hair descending from his navel that disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants.

With shaking knees, she backed up one more step and hit the bed, sitting down with an inelegant plop.

He stalked towards her, eliminating the gap between them, his motion so aggressively predatory that she instinctively scooted backwards up the bed. Without pausing, he followed, crawling across the bed towards her. Her head hit the pillow and he was on top of her, kissing her again, and then his hands were under her shirt, igniting every nerve in her body.

Her pink long-sleeve shirt disappeared, and she remembered that she was wearing just a plain, white bra. No lace or bows or sexy frills anywhere. She hadn't thought anyone would see it.

However, from the look on his face, she didn't have anything to worry about. He didn't look perturbed or disappointed. No, he looked … ravenous, like she was the first thing he'd had to eat in days, and he planned on devouring her whole in one sitting.

He filled his hands with her breasts, and she arched under him, moaning into his mouth. Then, her bra miraculously disappeared as well, and his lips began a thrilling descent down the elegant column of her neck.

"Damon?" she whispered, surprised she still retained the ability to speak.

"Hmm?"

"You can't do that biting thing again."

He just grinned and continued to bestow tingly kisses upon her flesh.

Panting breaths escaping her parted lips, she watched the top of his dark head as he kissed his way down her body. He laved the indentions of her collar bone, then lingered for a while at each breast, licking and sucking each tip with a skill that left her writhing. When he reached her naval, he glanced up, and his luminous blue eyes, so hot with desire, were like a lightning strike to her core. She'd never felt anything like this before. What was happening to her?

His gaze returned to her body as he peeled her skin-tight jeans down over her hips and off her legs along with her white panties. For a moment, she felt a twinge of self-consciousness. No guy had ever seen her completely naked before.

Then, all modesty fled as his mouth dipped down between her legs, right where she wanted him most, and her hips literally arched off the bed. Her hands locked in his hair, fingers threading through the thick, silky black strands, pulling him closer. Her arousal built fast as his extraordinary tongue stroked her, swirling, tasting, licking. It wasn't long before she was inundated with a pleasure that left her gasping and seeing stars.

As she recovered, he shifted enough to rid himself of his pants. Immediately, he was back, bracing himself above her, settling into the perfect cradle of her thighs with a heavy erection that made her tense.

"Hold on, wait," she gasped, struggling to preserve some semblance of rational thought, "shouldn't we – I mean, don't we need a…." She trailed off, blushing.

"Condom?" He smirked, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with an amusement she didn't understand. "Don't worry, I can't get you pregnant."

"Are you sure?"

"Scout's honor."

Yeah right, if he'd ever been a boy scout, then she was the Easter bunny. But all protests fled as she felt him nudging between her legs again.

Her fingers dug into the backs of his biceps as her body resisted the foreign invasion. She said breathlessly, "I've never done this before."

He laughed, but it was a gentle sound. "Believe me, I can tell."

"You can? How?" _Mortifying_.

"I can hear your heart. It sounds like it's about to explode out of your chest. Your blood is racing a thousand miles an hour. And you're shaking like a leaf. Afraid?"

She searched his sinfully handsome face, grateful because she grasped what he was really asking her. He was giving her one last chance to back out, to tell him to stop. She shook her head. "No."

Despite her bravado, she tensed up when she felt him seeking entrance again, not believing that there was any way he'd fit inside her. He meshed his lips with hers, delivering soothing, velvety kisses that robbed her lungs of air, made her head spin, made her insides liquefy into warm honey that pooled in her lower abdomen. Once she had relaxed, distracted by his kisses, he entered her in one smooth, easy glide, stretching her beyond what she thought she could handle.

Initially, she experienced extreme discomfort, and it must have shown on her face, because he whispered, "It won't hurt anymore, I promise."

Then his hips started to move in and out with slow, almost imperceptible thrusts and, oh god, he was right, it _definitely_ didn't hurt anymore. Gradually, his tempo increased, and she matched him stroke for stroke. It was like dancing or breathing, a rhythm she intuitively felt deep in her bones, and that heavenly pressure built once again, a slow detonation of exquisite sensation.

This orgasm wasn't like the one before. Before it had been sharp and bright and quick. This one was slow, glorious, white-hot eddies of pleasure that rippled through her, urging her to a height she'd never achieved before. The eddies transformed into a tidal wave, then finally a tsunami that crashed over and swept through her as she cried out and clung to him with all her strength.

While drifting weightlessly on a current of pure bliss, she felt him pump fiercely a final few times, then stiffen and groan hoarsely. Still throbbing, he collapsed on top of her, burying his face in her neck.

Smiling, she wrapped her arms around him. Even though she barely knew this man, there was something between them which she found hard to explain, an intimacy that went beyond simple physical pleasure. And he felt it, too, if the way he was brushing his mouth reverently over the pulse in her throat was any indication, his lips subtle as the feathery-soft edges of a dark angel's wing.

"Is it always like that?" she inquired curiously.

He froze. "No," he answered, lifting his head and glaring down at her. He sounded almost angry. Violently, he pushed up onto his knees. Taken aback by his abrupt mood shift, she started to scoot away, but he grabbed her thighs with enough force to leave finger-shaped bruises on the delicate, tan flesh.

"Ooww, what're you doing?" she protested, but he didn't respond, and she couldn't even tell if her words had registered with him. He was too focused on her inner thighs where there was the slightest smear of bright red blood visible – her virgin's blood. One of his hands reached out, and two fingertips trailed through the fluid. His nostrils flared. Eyes closed, he stuck his fingers between his lips and sucked them clean. He groaned softly, and dark, spidery veins crawled across his skin, just like when he'd drawn blood on her neck. He exhaled as if he'd just tasted manna from heaven. Then, his eyes snapped open, and the whites were crimson red.

"Go," he snarled gutturally and she glimpsed a flash of elongated white fangs behind his full lips.

She blinked at his harsh tone, frightened into immobility by his demonic appearance. "What?"

"Go _now_ before I rip your fucking throat out."

That galvanized her into action. She jumped up, grabbed her clothes where they lay in a heap beside the bed, and raced into the bathroom. She slammed the door shut and leaned against it, chest heaving.

After taking a few moments to pull herself together, she hurriedly dressed and sat down on the closed toilet seat, thoughts racing, heart pounding like a runaway train. What she had just seen was some straight up horror movie stuff. She waited in silence for a monster to bust through the door and kill her, but nothing happened. In fact, she heard only silence on the other side of the door. Working up her courage – if she was going to die, she might as well get it over with – she yanked the door open.

He stood on the other side, as though he'd been waiting for her, fully dressed once more. Before she could react, he snared her with his gaze and intoned persuasively, "Call your ride and tell them you're ready for them to come get you. I'm going to drive you back to the party, and once you get out of my car, you won't remember anything about me or what just happened here."

"I'm going to call my ride and I won't remember anything," she repeated woodenly.

His smile betrayed a touch of wistfulness. "Good girl. Let's go."

* * *

Elena remained on the window ledge, too heartbroken to move now that she remembered.

Damon had driven her back to the spot where they'd met. Her parents picked her up, and then they'd gotten into the accident on Wickery Bridge that resulted in their deaths and changed her life forever. She was the sole survivor, though she'd received her fair share of injuries: discolored bruises, sore muscles, scrapes, a head ache that wouldn't go away for days. Every inch of her had been thoroughly banged up. So, the bruises on her inner thighs shaped like fingerprints, the soreness between her legs – she'd never thought to question where they came from, simply chalking them up to the accident, just more trauma her body went through.

But they weren't from the accident.

She and Damon had met first, and they'd slept together. He'd been her first.

The ability to breathe abandoned her, and hot tears streaked their way down her cheeks.

 _She'd slept with Damon_ , and he'd known this entire time, and he'd never told her.


	2. Chapter 2

When Elena burst into the Salvatore boarding house, her eyes alighted on Damon immediately. He stood in front of the living room fireplace, bright beams of fire light shooting through the crystal whiskey glass in his hand. He faced away from her, the strong, muscled lines of his back evident even through the black t-shirt he wore. Though he had to know she was there, had certainly heard her bulldoze through the front door, he didn't turn around.

"How could you?" she demanded.

No reaction. He didn't even turn to look at her.

She walked forward until she stood on the top step leading down into the living room. "How could you not tell me?" she repeated more loudly.

He finally, slowly pivoted and regarded her warily. "I take it this means your memories have returned."

It felt like there was a hand squeezing her heart, preventing it from beating. "We met first, and you never told me. We slept together, and you made me _forget_."

He winced and gazed down into his bourbon, swirling the amber liquid idly. "Don't suppose this conversation could wait until you're feeling a little less volatile, you know, once your emotions are a little more even keel."

"Don't do that! Don't tell me that I'm overreacting or being too emotional!" How dare he act as though her justifiable anger was just a side effect of her transition. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You _raped_ me."

His head jerked up sharply, the first real emotion he'd shown since she appeared. He snapped angrily, "No! Think whatever you want about the rest, but don't you fucking dare use that word. Yes, I compelled you to get in the car with me; yes, I had every intention of killing you at first; yes, I stole the memory from you afterwards. But what happened between us _was. Not. Rape._ You were just as willing as I was, and I won't let you believe anything else." His angry tone abated, and he continued beseechingly, "If you'd told me to stop or given me any indication that you didn't want what was about to happen between us, I would've stopped. Surely, you know that."

Yes, she did know that. Her accusation had been unfair, a visceral reaction, not an intellectual one. Nevertheless, it still didn't make what had happened okay. "Fine, then, since you're so noble, explain to me why you decided not to kill me. Why did you compel me to forget instead?"

"Just so we're clear, I've never claimed to be noble. And I don't know."

"That's not good enough!"

"Because it was easy! I mean, Jesus Christ, Elena, you looked just like Katherine! I didn't know what to do with you. I didn't want – " His words cut off suddenly, and he took a step in her direction. She retreated a single step and held up a hand to ward him off, not wanting to be near him right now. He sighed defeatedly, and when he resumed speaking, his voice was much quieter and controlled. "I wasn't ready yet to feel the things you made me feel that night, and I had to get rid of you. But because you made me feel … _things_ that I hadn't felt in a really long time, I couldn't bring myself to just kill you."

The fingers wrapped around her heart increased their stranglehold. "How am I supposed to get past this?"

Silence.

"Because I don't think I can." She hated the way her voice broke on the last word. Tears streamed fast and furious down her cheeks, almost blinding her.

His mouth tightened. "What do you want me to fucking say, Elena? I screwed up. I'm weak and selfish, and I made a bad choice that hurt you. Shouldn't you be used to that by now?"

"This is different!" And it was different, though she had trouble putting it into words. He'd hurt her before, done terrible things she didn't think she could forgive, but that was before they'd grown so close. Before they spent the entire summer working together to save Stefan and then to defeat Klaus. She'd thought that they could be honest with one another, that they meant more to each other than lies and secrets and mind games. Stefan was the one who hid things from her, not Damon. He was always unflinchingly, brutally honest even when she wished he wouldn't be. _Guess I was wrong_ , she reflected bitterly. "After all the time we've spent together, after everything we've been through with Stefan and with each other…. I thought we were closer than that. You should have _told_ me."

"When?" His voice was cold and remote, blue eyes glittering like the honed edge of a knife. "Hmm? I'm curious. When would have been the best time? When you were busy being in love with my brother? Or maybe during one of the many times when you so thoughtfully reminded me that no matter what I do I'll never be good enough? That I'll never be Stefan? Oh, wait, I've got it. I should have told you when you decided my love was a problem and you needed to let me go. Is that when I should have mentioned it?"

"You had no right to keep something like this from me. You should have told me," she maintained. That's ultimately what she kept coming back to, why this hurt so much. He had known something so incredibly intimate about her, and she'd been utterly clueless. She felt like an idiot.

And maybe it also hurt so much because she … loved him? She shied away from that thought.

"Yeah, well, hindsight's a bitch," he tossed out caustically.

Suddenly, she couldn't stand it anymore. Couldn't stand the pain, the betrayal, the overwhelming sense of loss on top of his mocking, unrepentant attitude. It had been a horrible mistake to come here. She whirled to leave, her throat thick and clogged with misery.

"Elena."

Something in his voice made her pause, and she glanced back as her fingers curled around the front door handle.

"I'm sorry."

"Would you have ever told me?" she asked softly. "If I never turned and regained my memories on my own, would you have ever said anything?"

A conflicted expression crossed his features, and his mouth open and closed soundlessly. Clearly, he didn't want to admit the truth, which just as clearly was an infuriating no.

That fist around her heart tightened even more, leaving bruises that might not ever heal. "Then I don't believe you're really sorry. And I don't know how I can ever forgive you." She bolted out of the boarding house and in the process discovered for the first time how to hit top vamp-speed, grief and rage giving her feet wings as she blurred away from one of the few people she'd thought she could trust.


	3. Chapter 3

Almost exactly twenty four hours later, Elena sat on Caroline's bed, glumly plucking at the hem of her dress.

She should be downstairs with her friends who were all gathered together at Caroline's for the night. This was their attempt to boost her spirits about turning into an undead monster. She could hear them downstairs chatting and laughing – Caroline, Bonnie, Jeremy, and Matt.

She'd given it an honest effort, trying to forget and have fun, but it simply wasn't working. Everything that had happened was still too fresh in her mind, and she couldn't pretend any more like it wasn't bothering her. Because it was. A lot.

So, she was hiding out in Caroline's bedroom in order to be alone with her thoughts and not have to feign like she was okay. She fiddled some more with her dress, then glared down at the offending garment.

Why had she gotten dressed up simply to go to her friend's house? She had no idea. Unless….

She gritted her teeth. No, it was not because she was going to see Damon. Seeing Damon was not part of her current plan, especially since the entirety of her plan consisted of 'stay away from Damon.'

Staying away was the sensible thing to do. She'd been beyond mad and hurt when she'd confronted him yesterday, and look how well that had turned out. Tempers flared and cruel words were hurled. Not productive or helpful. Therefore, logic dictated she avoid him for awhile until the anger and hurt faded to a more manageable level. She just needed some distance in order to deal with the return of her memories and what they meant. She needed to figure everything out and get her mind and heart back in their proper places before she saw him again.

 _In fact, you shouldn't even be thinking about him,_ she sternly scolded herself.

With a sigh, she let go of her dress and smoothed her fingers over a wrinkle in the bedspread. In her other hand, she held a drink, some fruity, alcoholic concoction spiked liberally with blood. It was an invention of Caroline's, and it was good – she was on her fourth.

"Hey, are you okay?"

She looked up to find Caroline standing in the doorway, a concerned look on her pretty face.

Elena mustered a thin smile. "Yeah, just needed a moment to myself."

Caroline came over and sat down beside her, resting a hand lightly on Elena's knee. "You're going to get through this. It gets a lot easier, I promise, and I'll be here to help you every step of the way."

"Thank you, but it's not that." She held up her mostly empty drink. "These are doing a really good job of helping with the cravings. It's actually – something else."

Canting her head, Caroline asked gently, "Well, what is it?"

Elena's smile faded. She looked down and confessed, "I slept with Damon." She darted a glance up to catch her friend's reaction. Somehow, Caroline managed to look both completely thunderstruck and completely outraged.

"Wait, what? Does Stefan know?"

"No, it's not like that. It happened a really long time ago. Before Stefan."

"And I'm just finding this out now? How could you not tell me?"

"I didn't remember …," she puffed out a heavy breath of air, "until yesterday."

"Oh." Caroline's eyes widened as far as they would go. " _Oh_. That bastard. Do you want me to kill him for you? I'll drive a stake right through his weasely, black heart, just say the word."

Elena couldn't help but smile at her friend's fierce protectiveness. "No, no, I … I don't know. I don't know what I want right now or how I'm supposed to feel." Total understatement. Her emotions were a complete mess at the moment. "Mostly I'm just so angry, and I feel so stupid, like I should've known. Somehow, I should've guessed."

"No, do _not_ blame yourself. This is Damon's fault. He's sneaky and manipulative and just … ugh, a bastard!"

Elena laughed half-heartedly. "I went to see him yesterday, which was a horrible mistake. We got in a huge fight. I don't even know what I really wanted from him, or even what I was trying to say. I guess I just thought that after everything he and I had been through that we were … that he and I were …"

"That you two were friends," Caroline finished gently.

Elena pressed her lips together. 'Friends' was such an inadequate word to try and encompass the relationship she had with Damon, and yet she couldn't think of a better one. "Yeah," she finally said, "friends."

"Come here," Caroline ordered, pulling her into a hug before scooping her empty drink cup out of her hand. "Come downstairs with me. I'll make you another drink and we can bond over the horribleness that is Damon until the sun comes up. You'll feel better, or my name's not Caroline Forbes."

Elena nodded weakly. She really did appreciate her friend trying to cheer her up. "Sure, I'll be right there."

As Caroline drifted out the door, Elena called, "Hey, Care?"

"Yeah?"

"Please, don't say anything to Stefan. Or anyone. I'll tell them but … when I'm ready."

"Not a word. My lips are sealed," Caroline assured her.

Elena slipped her feet back into a moderately high pair of heels and followed Caroline downstairs with every intention of rejoining her friends, but when she reached the bottom stair and the sound of their laughter and happy voices had increased to an uncomfortable level, she couldn't bring herself to go to them. Instead, she walked right out the front door and headed unerringly for her car. She almost made it, but Caroline intercepted her, wedging herself between Elena and the car door.

With crossed arms and raised brows, she inquired, "Where are you going?"

Elena chewed on her bottom lip, then admitted, "I just – I need to see Damon."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? So soon? Maybe you should give yourself some time."

Elena shrugged helplessly. "I can't think about anything else."

"Look, I know what you're going through. I've been there. When I first turned, all I could think about was seeing Matt even though I knew I shouldn't. You have to remember that everything you're feeling right now is magnified and affecting your judgment." Caroline brought her hands up like she was praying and echoed Elena's thoughts from earlier. "If you'll just wait a bit, you'll have a clearer head."

Elena willed Caroline to understand. "I know that everything you're saying is true, but I still – I have to go."

Caroline huffed air out of one side of her mouth and stepped aside. "Okay, well, promise you'll be careful? And call if you need backup or anything?"

"I promise."

Elena got into her car and drove directly to the boarding house. Upon entering, she found Damon slouched against the back of the couch, chin tucked into his chest, legs fully extended and crossed at the ankles. There was a sullen expression on his face and an empty bottle of bourbon beside him. He wore a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms and the top few buttons undone. The fire was nothing but smoldering embers in the fireplace, leaving him half obscured in shadow. He obviously hadn't stirred in quite some time.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but Stefan's not here," he remarked darkly once he noticed her presence. Even as incredibly angry at him as she was, she couldn't stop herself from admiring how stupid-hot he looked with his perfectly chiseled features, hypnotic blue eyes, and tousled hair black as sin. His effortless sex appeal only served to piss her off even more.

"I'm not here for Stefan," she snapped back sharply.

His lip curled irritably. "Then why are you here?"

Excellent question. She didn't know why she was here or what she'd hoped to accomplish by showing up. She'd thought she was spoiling for another fight, but now she realized she was actually after something else as arousal sliced through her anger with the keenness of a knife, overwhelming in its intensity. It was like all the things she'd felt for Damon that she'd repressed for so long when she was human had suddenly reared their heads with a vengeance, and she no longer had the strength or desire to fight them off. It was hard enough to resist him when she only had the memories of his breathtaking kisses to contend with. It was impossible now that she was also haunted by every small detail of their sex. The feel of his bare skin sliding over hers. The way that sinful mouth felt on her breasts, between her legs. The way he felt moving inside her.

Besides, they'd already done it once right? So what did it matter if they did it again? If they had sex right here, right now?

She answered his question – _why are you here? -_ by reaching down for the hem of her dress and pulling it over her head and off. The silky purple material fluttered to the floor, leaving her slim body exposed to his gaze. She stood before him in nothing but matching lacy red bra and panties and black high heels.

His face went slack and he sat up straight. "You've been drinking."

She jerked her chin pointedly at the drained bottle of bourbon next to him. "So have you."

He didn't dispute the charge. She strutted right up to him, sashaying her hips in what she hoped was a seductive manner, and straddled his hips. In the process, she knocked the empty liquor bottle to the ground. It landed with a soft thud on the expensive rug. She grabbed his shirt and ripped it down the middle. Buttons popped off and flew everywhere.

Hmm, she could get used to the whole super-strength thing. It seemed to be one good perk about becoming a vampire. It was convenient when she wanted to rend Damon's clothes from his body in a matter of seconds.

And did she want to? _Yes. Yes, yes, yes._

Was it a good idea? Probably not. But just then, the desire to touch his naked, perfect body had less to do with reason and more to do with forgetting everything and losing herself in physical pleasure, pleasure she knew he could give her.

He captured her hands with his before she could finish removing his shirt. "Elena, I don't know where Stefan is right now. He could literally walk in at any moment."

"I don't care. Stefan and I aren't together."

His blue eyes flared with shock as he absorbed that information. When his grip loosened, she yanked her hands back and resumed shredding his shirt until it fell away and there was nothing left but tattered ribbons on the couch.

As her hands admiringly traced over his warm, muscular frame, he cleared his throat. "Listen, I'm the last person that should lecture anyone else on doing the right thing, but you're angry and confused and your emotions are all over the place …." He swallowed hard and moistened his lips. "I don't want you to do something you'll regret."

She leaned back and locked eyes with him. "So, you want me to stop?"

His gaze dropped, fixing on the caramel swell of her breasts, so perkily on display in the lacy cups of her bra. Only with the help of her newly magnified senses was she able to hear him whisper, "No."

"Then, shut up," she ordered, rubbing herself against his rock-hard arousal. He grunted and wrapped his arms around her.

"God, Elena, I-"

"No." She pressed a finger against his sensual lips. "I mean it, Damon, no talking."

He fell silent, and her finger glided gently off his mouth and moved lower, trailing down his chin, then underneath to his throat.

His head tilted back, baring his throat to her gaze. She couldn't help but fixate on the sight of his pale skin, on the latticework of blue veins pulsing right below the surface, on the blood that sang seductively in her ears with the irresistible allure of a siren's song. It roused a dark hunger in her that yearned to be fulfilled.

Her eyes grew hot as veins appeared, fangs punching through her gums. Without a second thought or even a first, she lowered her head and scored her teeth across the vulnerable flesh. Twin red streaks blossomed and trickled down his neck. The tangy aroma of blood hit the air and blended with the dark, spicy scent of his skin to create an intoxicating, mouth-watering fragrance.

She licked the rivulets away with her tongue, finding his blood to be silky, delicious, and even better than it smelled. This was her first time drinking directly from the source, and it was heavenly. She dared to wonder how heavenly it would be to pierce his throat and drink straight from his vein.

"Do it," he urged roughly as if he'd read her mind, "please, Elena."

Before his plea had the chance to dissipate in her ears, she sank her fangs into his jugular, and a groan rumbled up from deep within his chest as he submitted to her completely.

Hot, decadent blood spurted into her mouth, filling her with heat, making her strong. Her lips formed a perfect seal, preventing any of the crimson fluid from escaping. She didn't want to waste a single deeply satisfying drop of the exquisite wine circulating through his veins. He tasted so good. She didn't think she'd ever get enough. She wanted more. Needed more. Needed everything he had to give.

As his blood continued to cascade down her throat, his hand slipped beneath her panties. A finger teased its way into her wetness, and the sensation made her clamp down harder on his neck and suck with deep, greedy pulls. A second finger soon followed, stretching her, driving her insane.

Suddenly, it wasn't enough as her blood lust morphed into carnal lust. She craved him, _all of him_ , inside of her in the worst way. With a jerk, she withdrew her fangs from his vein, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants with frenzied, impatient hands.

He assisted her by ripping away her delicate panties. Next he popped open her bra, then got rid of it all together, tearing it from her shoulders. This revealed nipples straining for his attention. He rolled them in his palms then took them between his lips, flicking each bud in turn with a wickedly talented tongue before sucking with exquisite force.

Drunk on his blood and on what he was doing to her, she rose up and came down on the rigid length she had just freed from the confines of his pants. Moaning, she bit her lip at the incredible fullness. Her problems – turning into a vampire, learning that Damon had violated her trust, their recent fight – ceased to matter. All that mattered was the feel of their bodies joined together, his mouth on her breasts, his hands roaming along the curves of her bottom.

Placing her hands on his shoulders for leverage, she rode him with wild abandon, working herself up to a furious pace. Every rise and fall brought her closer to the edge until her climax exploded through her like a bomb, all at once, blinding in its intensity. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, leaving bloody half-moons in his flesh, and she cried out, shocked by the intensity of what she was feeling.

With her insides still rippling and squeezing around him, he flipped her onto the couch cushions beneath him. His mouth sought hers desperately, but at the last second, she turned her head so that his lips crashed into her cheek instead. He lifted up and studied her with a probing glance, stung by her rejection. After a moment, he pulled away. She hated how empty she felt without him inside her and whimpered a protest.

Ignoring her, he slid down her body, all the way down. He pressed her knees up, high and wide for better access, and, turning his head to the side, kissed the arch of her foot, right where the soft skin was visible through the straps of her shoes. Then, his lips trailed up her leg with sublime skill, planting kisses on her calf, in the hollow of her knee, along her slender thigh.

With a breathy moan, she spread her legs further in invitation, but just before his mouth arrived at her throbbing center, he dipped back down and started all over again at the other delicate foot, those beautiful, firm lips slowly feathering their way back up her leg, worshipping every graceful curve and line.

She twisted anxiously, grasping handfuls of his darkly lush hair, trying to hurry him. But he stubbornly maintained his leisurely pace, drawing his tongue along every inch of her tan skin, grazing her flesh with sharp teeth and hot breaths, tormenting her mercilessly until she was panting his name, begging him for it. Finally, when she didn't think she could stand anymore, he reached the sweet heat between her legs and delved in with a wet suction that sent her over the brink almost instantly. It was glorious, stars bursting across the back of her eyelids.

Rising over her, he resettled between her thighs, completely nude now, no doubt having removed the rest of his clothes at some point when she was too distracted to notice. He sheathed himself in her to the hilt, and her legs locked around his waist, the points of her heels digging into the sculpted muscles of his ass. Curling his body around her, he pressed his cheek to hers, and proceeded to make love to her with gentle, consummate finesse. Each languid flex of his hips stirred waves of pleasure, waves that floated her all the way up to a final peak where she crested over the top with a scream. While her nails raked bloody furrows across his back, he found his own release, buried deep inside her, groaning her name repeatedly like it was being torn from his throat.

Afterwards, they lay entwined together, soaking in the afterglow. He caressed the long, dark hair framing her face, and she found herself leaning into the tender touch.

When she eventually opened her eyes, it was to discover a smile on his face that was so genuinely happy it transformed him into someone she almost didn't recognize. Ice blue eyes gazed down at her adoringly from beneath heavy lids. His hair was in complete disarray with strands the same shade as a crow's wing scattered haphazardly across his forehead.

He looked heartbreakingly gorgeous.

Bending down to brush soft lips along her jaw, he murmured, "I love you, Elena. I'm so fucking sorry. About everything. And I know, before all of this crazy shit happened, you chose Stefan, but I can make you happy. I _will_ , if you just let me try. I'll spend the rest of our immortal lives doing whatever it takes to make all this up to you, I promise."

His untimely declaration jolted her out of her blissed-out state. No! What was he doing? Why was he ruining this by talking? This was supposed to be about wordless pleasure, about working off some of her anger and frustration through purely physical means, and that was it. Nothing more. Fresh fury blasted through her. Her hands flew up, and she slammed them against his shoulders in an effort to shove him away. "Stop! Just stop. Get off."

His smile wavered. "What?"

"Get off me!"

He sat up slowly, enabling her to scramble away. She dragged a hand through her now sex-mussed hair and hunted for her dress.

"What's wrong?" he asked, brow creasing with confusion. "Did I hurt you?" He reached for her hand, but she yanked it away before he made contact.

"No, you didn't hurt me," she informed him coldly. "I'm fine. But this doesn't change anything."

Her words cracked across the distance between them, acting like a slap to his face. "How can you say that after - "

"After what?" she cut him off angrily. "After what we just did?" She waved a hand between them dismissively. "Been there, done that, remember? It changes _nothing_. I still don't forgive you, and even though I'm not with Stefan, I don't know how you could possibly think I'd _ever_ choose you."

The devastation on his face was so immediate and raw she might as well have driven a stake through his heart. Even she was shocked by the venom lacing her words, and as soon as they left her mouth, she regretted them. But it was too late. She couldn't take them back.

"Of course," he replied in a lifeless tone, "my mistake."

Suddenly, she couldn't bear the sight of his agony. Locating her dress, she slipped it back on and stumbled away on trembling legs, driven by an urgency to get the hell out of there. Just before she made it out the front door, she chanced a look back.

He hadn't moved. He still remained on the couch, naked, staring at the space she had so recently occupied. His handsome face was a tragic mask, his blue eyes pools of anguish.

The sight of his pain, pain that _she_ had caused, struck her like a punch to the gut. Her throat constricted, forcing her to swallow around a hard, jagged lump. Tears welled and threatened to spill from her eyes. She left before they could.

* * *

When she woke the next morning, warm in her own bed, she recalled last night with vivid clarity. The harsh words she'd spoken to Damon echoed in her ears. He'd been so sweet and tender with her, treating her like she was something precious, and how had she repaid him? By feeding on him and fucking him just for her own selfish gratification, even though she _knew_ what something like that would mean to him. By breaking his heart with the cruelest words she could come up with on the spot just because she didn't want to deal with the confused snarl of emotions he evoked in her.

Her stomach churned with guilt and remorse. She felt sick.

God, what was wrong with her? No matter how angry she was, she shouldn't have been such a bitch. That wasn't like her at all. She had to see him, had to apologize, had to _explain_. She shouldn't have said those things, didn't _mean_ them. She needed him to know that it was like she'd been some other person, not herself at all.

She popped out of bed and started to get dressed. She tried to call him a few times, but he didn't pick up. Jumping into her car, she quickly drove over to the boarding house. When she pulled up, she noticed his car wasn't in the driveway.

But Caroline's was.

She raced inside and spotted Stefan and Caroline sitting on the same couch that she and Damon had had sex on last night. "Hey," she called.

"Morning," they returned simultaneously, Stefan's low and gruff, Caroline's loud and perky. Caroline smiled nervously and added, "We didn't expect you here so bright and early."

Elena paused in her headlong rush to locate Damon and cocked her head. "I could say the same to you. What're you doing here? Isn't it awfully early for a morning chat?"

"Oh, well, you know…." Caroline trailed off and sighed. "Okay, fine, I can't think of an excuse. I might've been telling Stefan the news about you and Damon."

"I'm sorry, what?" Elena asked sharply.

"He needed to know, Elena. I'm worried about you."

Her fists clenched. She should have known better than to trust Caroline with something of this magnitude. "I told you I would handle it." The skin around her eyes heated and she knew she was losing control. Her vampire aspect was showing.

Stefan interjected, "I think the relevant part of this story is that now I know, so there's really no need to fight about it."

"Right," Caroline agreed and nodded sagely.

Enraged, speechless, Elena turned to go upstairs.

Stefan quickly said, "If you're looking for Damon, he's not here."

"That's okay, I'll wait for him upstairs."

"No, I mean, Damon's _not here._ "

Okay, now she was confused. She turned back. "What are you talking about? Then, where is he?"

"I don't know, but he left in a hurry." Stefan scowled. "And now I know why."

"Well, when's he coming back?"

He hesitated, then said, "He's not."

She laughed in disbelief, but when he continued to sit there, his face still and serious as a stone, uncertainty took root. "No, he – I just saw him last night. He wouldn't … just leave …." She recalled the tortured look on Damon's face, as if she'd ripped his heart out with her bare hands and stomped it into a bloody pulp beneath her heels while it was still beating. Icy fingers of dread skittered down her spine and she sped upstairs, ignoring Stefan and Caroline's calls to wait.

She flung Damon's bedroom door open. On the surface, everything looked pretty normal. The bed was neatly made. There was a book on the night stand with a bookmark sticking out.

But she knew the second she stepped inside that it was … empty. Damon had this presence, and that presence was absent. She hurried over to one of his dressers. The drawers slid out easily as she pulled them open and began rifling through them frantically. They were mostly empty. There was certainly far less in them than there should have been.

Spying a slim black cell resting on top of the dresser, she clutched it to her chest, a flicker of hope sparking through her. He'd forgotten it. Surely that meant he planned to return? He'd need his phone, she reasoned in a futile attempt to convince herself.

She continued to search his room. A cursory scan of his bathroom revealed that his razor and toothbrush were missing. She moved on to the closet. Also mostly empty, just a bunch of empty hangers. Almost everything in his room was gone.

Despair crashed through her with the force of an avalanche when she could no longer deny the truth. He'd packed his things because he'd need them wherever he was going, which wasn't here.

He hadn't forgotten his phone – he'd purposely abandoned it, because he didn't want anyone to be able to reach him, and he had no intention of reaching out to anyone, either. He would just acquire a new one with an unknown number.

Damon was gone.

The world fell away beneath her feet, the weight of her heartache dragging her down into a dark, never-ending pit.

How could this possibly be happening? Never in a million years would she have wanted him to leave. To just vanish. She couldn't imagine her world without Damon. To never see him again? To never hear his voice or be near him again? Unthinkable. _Unbearable._ He was always there whenever she needed him. Plus, he'd promised he'd never leave her again. He'd _promised._

Swaying, she splayed her hands against the back of the closet for support. Sliding to the ground, she turned and drew her knees in tight, her back against the wall. His phone was still tightly clenched in her fist.

Caroline found her like that several minutes later when she entered Damon's room, calling softly, "Elena?"

Then, Caroline spotted Elena sitting on the floor of Damon's closet. She approached and squatted down in front of her, a look of pity on the blonde girl's face.

With eyes swollen from crying, Elena looked across at her friend and choked out, "He's gone, Caroline. He's really gone, and it's all my fault."

"Oh, Elena," Caroline murmured compassionately. She gathered the sobbing girl in her arms and held her tightly for a long time.


	4. Chapter 4

_**One Year Later, More or Less**_

Elena flew breathlessly into the kitchen of the Salvatore boarding house, bottle of Riesling in hand and a wide smile on her face.

Stefan, who was standing next to the stove, half-turned and grinned at her. "You found it."

She held up the bottle triumphantly. "Yup, grilled cheese and wine. Aren't we fancy?" She set it down on the island counter and came over to peek over his shoulder. "Mmm, looks good."

"Good? I'll have you know," Stefan bragged proudly, "that these aren't just any grilled cheese sandwiches. These are the best grilled cheese sandwiches you'll ever have the pleasure of eating." He waved his hand at the food he'd just finished assembling, waiting patiently before it went into the pan warming on the stove. "I used four different cheeses, tomatoes, and bacon."

Elena pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Hmm, something's missing."

Stefan raised a brow in inquiry.

"Some green onions."

"Wow, that's … actually a really good idea," he said, eyes narrowing as he stared down at his sandwiches and pondered the implications of such an upgrade.

She wrinkled her nose cutely. "You're welcome. I'm going to go start setting up outside. Where do you hide the wine openers?"

"Third drawer to the left of the fridge," Stefan answered as he began to rifle through the produce on the counter for some green onions.

She found what she was looking for and grabbed the wine again by the neck, heading out back. She and Stefan had decided to have lunch in the back yard. Since it was such a beautiful day, it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

She made her way into the living room. Earlier, she'd opened all the curtains on the first floor which bathed the dim interior of the boarding house in light and chased away the customary shadows, granting the place an unusually inviting, airy atmosphere.

And who stood there gazing out one of those open windows like everything was completely normal? Damon.

He stood completely still, head up, profile remote, arms by his side, surveying the scenery behind the house. Bright rays of afternoon sunlight poured through the tall glass panes, gilding his hair so that it glimmered blue-black.

The unexpected sight was quite the shock, and the wine bottle slipped from her nerveless fingers and shattered on the hardwood floor. Glass shards and wine exploded everywhere, spattering her sneakers and calves.

Damon swung around at the disturbance and regarded her impassively. She had no idea what was going through his mind. In that single moment of silence as they stared at each other, a multitude of words swarmed up and threatened to erupt from her mouth, a thousand things she'd wanted to say to him for so long, but she had no clue where to start or how to properly articulate them. In the end, nothing audible emerged from her except for a ragged inhale.

If her tongue wasn't working so well, the rest of her body still was. It reacted to his sudden reappearance by tightening, growing hyper aware of every little sensation: the cotton of her shirt sleeves brushing over her upper arms, the coolness where her skin was exposed to the air, wine dripping down her legs and soaking her socks, her nipples peaking against the satiny material of her bra cups.

That's what he did to her, made her intensely aware. And he might have been gone for a long time, but apparently her body had no problem remembering, his memory embedded in every atom of her being.

Alerted by the noise of breaking glass, Stefan darted out from the kitchen, abandoning their lunch on the stove. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong but needed only to follow her stunned gaze to discover the answer for himself.

"Damon," Stefan uttered in sheer astonishment.

"Hello, brother."

"You're back."

"And you're observant."

"What're you doing here?"

"Last I checked, this place was still half mine."

"Yeah, no, of course, it's just … you didn't write, you didn't call. We weren't expecting you."

"Obviously. I'll get out of your hair." Damon's eyes dropped to the ruined wine bottle on the ground, then flicked up briefly and met Elena's gaze, pinning her in place as surely as a butterfly mounted on a spreading board. She had yet to recover the air or the sense to say anything.

Damon shifted his gaze back to Stefan. His eyebrows lifted mockingly. "Hope I haven't put a kink in your afternoon plans."

He sauntered out of the room, all cool arrogance. Only when he disappeared from sight did air rush to fill her lungs, and she found herself able to breathe once more.

Stefan reached over and pried the bottle opener out of her numb hand. "Go," he ordered softly, "I'll clean up."

She gave him a grateful look. "Thank you."

Sprinting after Damon, she flew up the stairs to his room. In the doorway, she halted, observing him. His back was to her as he opened random dresser drawers and slammed them shut, one after the other. She didn't say anything, content simply to absorb the sight of him, something which she hadn't known if she'd ever get the luxury to do again.

Finally, he whirled. "Why is your shit in my room?"

She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words which seemed to be the theme of the day.

"What's the matter?" he asked sharply. "Couldn't fit everything in Stefan's room? That's what he gets for being a pack rat."

She found her voice. "No, I – "

"Never mind," he interrupted her, "it doesn't matter. I can stay across the hall. It's not like there's a shortage of bedrooms in this place."

He brushed past her out the door and left her standing there awkwardly. Slowly, she pivoted and walked across to the new room he'd claimed, pausing in the doorway.

He was unpacking a bag, tossing clothes onto the bed. Eventually, he glanced up and saw her. "Nobody likes a lurker," he snapped.

She flushed and ducked just inside the room. "I can move my stuff. If I'd've realized you were coming home - "

"It doesn't matter," he repeated. "I'm probably not going to stay long anyway."

Her heart constricted. "Oh," she breathed softly. She looked down at her sneakers and wrapped her arms around herself. "Where have you been?" There was a tremor in her voice.

He waited a solid thirty seconds before he replied evasively, "Lots of places."

She already knew that. She'd asked Bonnie to do a locator spell on him, and her friend had willingly obliged. Elena had thought that maybe she could try to follow him, but every time Bonnie performed the spell, he was somewhere new. Once in New York, once in Hong Kong. Another time in Venice. He was moving around too fast for any attempt on her part to find him to be successful. The idea that he was doing that purposefully so she wouldn't be able to follow him made her heart hurt.

"You know, I'm surprised you're even here," he said, interrupting her maudlin thinking. "I figured that of all people _you_ would insist on having the whole college experience."

"Jeremy still needs me. He shouldn't be on his own yet." She shrugged lightly. "I'm just postponing school for a year or two. It's not like I'm getting any older, right?" She attempted a feeble smile, but it died quickly when he failed to return it.

"Mhmm," he said noncommittally.

"So, what made you decide to come home?" That was the million dollar question.

"I'm not really in the mood to play twenty questions," he rebuked. "Do you actually need something?"

"N-no, I don't need anything," she stammered.

"Then, if you don't mind, I'm kinda busy here." He shot her a look frosty enough to rival any sharp winter breeze.

"Uh, yeah, of course. Sorry." She turned to leave then bit her lip and looked back.

"What?" he said irritably.

She took a deep, trembling breath and rubbed her palms on the seam of her shorts. "I just wanted to say that it's really nice to see you again. I'm glad you're back."

His features morphed into an inscrutable expression. She hung back for a moment, waiting for some kind of response, but he remained silent. She couldn't help but wonder what was going on behind his pale blue eyes. However, he didn't seem inclined to enlighten her, so she turned reluctantly and went downstairs to rejoin Stefan.

* * *

"So, Damon's back."

Elena looked over at Bonnie's inquisitive comment to find Bonnie and Caroline watching her expectantly. They were both home from college for the weekend, a trip they made quite frequently since the college they attended, Whitmore, wasn't even a full hour away. At the moment, they were all hanging out at the Mystic Grill, playing pool.

Constricting her hands around the shaft of her pool stick, Elena confirmed, "Damon's back."

"And here!" That was Caroline. Her voice was filled with surprise.

Elena twisted to look behind her. From her vantage point by the pool tables, she spotted Damon moseying up to the bar and grabbing a seat. He rested his forearms on the bar top and engaged in dialogue with the bartender who, moments later, slid him a glass full of alcohol, undoubtedly bourbon. The chair beside him was empty, and she impulsively had the desire to go sit next to him and talk to him again, to break through that uncaring façade he'd worn when she'd encountered him earlier. He'd been understandably dismissive and distant towards her, but she refused to believe that he was really so indifferent, not after everything they'd been through together. Before she'd ruined everything by lashing out thoughtlessly and hurting him deeply. Surely, if she just tried again, she could get through to him.

Belatedly, she realized that Caroline had been speaking for quite some time. She turned back to her friend with a startled, "Huh?"

"I _said_ ," Caroline repeated, "it doesn't matter that he's here, because you're going to ignore him, right?" When Elena didn't immediately answer, she pointed out, "He left you, remember? You were a complete wreck for months. Do you really want to go through that again?"

"Uh-huh, yeah," she agreed absently and leaned her stick against the pool table. "I'll be right back."

"What?" Caroline squawked at the same time that Bonnie murmured disapprovingly, "Elena."

Elena held up a finger to silence her friends and wound her way through the crowd over to the bar. She pulled out the chair next to Damon and slid into it. Though he didn't look at her or acknowledge her in any way, she could tell from the tense set of his jaw and the way his fingers tightened around his glass of bourbon that he was cognizant of her presence. Her gaze alighted on his large, oval daylight ring which made her absently touch her own, worn on the same finger as his.

"Hey," she said softly, still focused on his hand, noting the contrast of pale skin against the black sleeve of his leather jacket.

He slanted a dark, flat look in her direction, his mouth a hard line, and didn't reply.

 _O-_ kay, so he wasn't even going to be polite to her. Refusing to be discouraged, she tried again. "Bad day?"

He exhaled pointedly through his nose. "What do you want, Elena?"

"Nothing," she protested quickly, then amended, "I mean, I guess just to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

Just then, the bartender wandered over to check if Elena needed anything. She leaned forward and caught his eye, using her compulsion when she instructed, "Yes, please, I'd like a seven and seven. You don't need my ID, and make it strong."

When he traipsed back over with her drink, she took a trial sip, discovered it was more than satisfactory, and continued speaking to Damon as if there had never been a break in their conversation. "You've been gone for a year. I missed you. Figuring out this whole vampire thing was really hard without - "

"You look like you're handling it just fine. Care Bear the control-freak was here to help you. And my brother." The corners of his mouth tightened infinitesimally.

Oh, had he assumed that she was back with Stefan? "Stefan and I – we're not together," she rushed to clarify. "I don't know if it looked like that earlier, but we're definitely not."

"And that should matter to me one way or the other why?" He drained his bourbon.

That's when a horrible thought occurred to her. What if he was with someone else now? She knew better than to hope that he'd been celibate for an entire year – it would be the height of foolishness to expect such a miracle – but what if, while he was gone, he'd found someone he'd rather be with than her? A small, cold feeling wormed its way through her.

Her hair was up in a loose ponytail, and several long strands had worked themselves loose, floating freely about her face. She took a second to tuck a few of them behind her ear before asking tentatively, "Is there – are you - ?"

She was interrupted when he set his glass down with a loud clunk, pushing it forward for the bartender to refill. "Can we not? If it isn't obvious, I'd prefer to cultivate my buzz in peace." Just in case she'd misunderstood, he added, " _Alone_."

She blinked, taken aback. "Okay, if that's what you want."

"That's what I want."

As his gaze slid away from her and he resumed staring straight ahead, she couldn't find in those wicked, beautiful eyes any of the things that she was used to seeing. They were devoid of any affection or heat. Instead, they held an arctic chill and an implacable distance she was having no success in breaching. He had the put - upon air of someone being bothered by a random, irksome stranger.

The bartender swept over and filled the empty glass before hurrying off. Damon pulled his alcohol in close and continued to focus his gaze straight ahead, evidently done talking.

She slipped slowly off the bar seat, drink still in hand, and walked mechanically back to her friends, who had been watching and, in Caroline's case, listening with avid curiosity. Thankfully, however, they refrained from mentioning what had just happened, and she tried to pretend like everything was normal. She shot a few more rounds of pool, letting Caroline and Bonnie, but mostly Caroline, chatter away, hardly paying any attention. When she finished her seven and seven, she set the glass down and made some lame excuse about needing to use the restroom.

She didn't actually need to, but hied off to the ladies' room anyway, seeking a few moments of alone time to collect herself. She stood in front of the mirror and released her hair from its messy ponytail, combing her fingers through the strands until they fell in a straight, dark nimbus around her face.

When she exited the bathroom a few moments later, having delayed long enough, she collided with Damon who naturally just so happened to be walking by at that very moment.

The judder of their impact forced a soft "Oh!" from her lips. Her pulse jumped like a startled rabbit when she found herself flush against him, and a quicksilver rush of desire spiraled through her veins. If simply being around him put her body on high alert, being against him like this awakened every one of her cells into overwhelming life, as if they'd been zapped by a high-voltage current.

She inhaled the mingled scents of leather and dark spices, and her fingers curled and clenched, aching with the urge to touch him, to caress the silken rebel locks dangling at his temples. Needy arousal uncoiled in her low belly. Her nipples tightened and poked against his chest, and molten heat bloomed at the juncture of her thighs.

Color rose in her cheeks when his nostrils flared, since she knew that he was able to detect how her body was responding to his proximity.

Then, to make matters even worse, her body decided to act of its own accord and, well, _rub_ itself on him like a shameless, sex-starved hussy. It was just the barest of wiggles, only enough to grow reacquainted with the lean, hard contours of his frame, but it caused Damon's breath to hitch and his muscles to go taut as bridge cables.

For a brief moment, she stared at the upside-down triangle of pale skin below his collar bone, revealed by the v-neck of his black shirt, before her gaze slid up and noted the large blue vein pulsing at the side of his neck. Finally, her eyes continued their upward roaming and fixed inexplicably on his mouth, fascinated by the shape of his firm pink lips. The top lip was sensually curved like a bow while the bottom one was full and begging for a nibble.

Unbidden, her hand rose to trace that tempting mouth, but before it reached its destination, he snatched her wrist in an iron grip. She gasped.

The fingers of his other hand tangled roughly in her hair, and he wrenched her head back at a steep angle so that she was forced to meet his eyes. She couldn't look away. Didn't _want_ to look away. All the normal sounds of the bar – patrons laughing and talking, dishes and glassware clinking, trendy music playing overhead – receded until she and Damon seemed to be wrapped in their own private bubble of silence. A parade complete with ostentatious floats and full marching band could have passed by right beside them and she wouldn't have noticed.

He lowered his head until his mouth hovered a mere breath above hers. That weighted silence continued, and she wondered if he was going to kiss her. She prayed that he would, wetting her lips in invitation.

He growled in a low voice, "Let me make something crystal clear. I'm not the same person you remember before I left. I'm fucking done with you. Done with your bullshit games, done with never feeling good enough, done with all of it. I'm no longer your pathetic watchdog who comes running every time you yank on his chain."

She flinched as though he'd burned her, and her expression grew stricken. Is that really what he thought? That she'd just been playing games, that she'd used him?

His eyes narrowed to slits, black lashes practically fusing together, and he went on ruthlessly, "The reason for my return has absolutely _nothing_ to do with you. Stay away from me."

He released her with a jerk. Stepping back, he sidled around her and made his way out the back door to the alley behind the Mystic Grill. The door closed behind him with a bang.

In the wake of his departure, reality slammed rudely back into focus, the noisy hubbub of the restaurant returning full-force as she stood there bewildered and alone.

With tears in her eyes, she stumbled back to her friends, his words burning a hole through her brain, the heat of his touch branded on her body.

When Bonnie spotted her, she asked in a tone sharpened by concern, "Elena, what's wrong?"

"Do you think we could go? I don't want to be here anymore."

"Yeah, of course. Caroline?"

"Huh, what?" the blonde girl asked, turning away from some guy she was chatting with.

"It's time to go," Bonnie informed her firmly.

As the girls rapidly, blessedly escorted her out to Caroline's car, one on either side, their elbows linked together, Elena reflected that things weren't nearly as bleak as they had initially seemed. Yes, Damon had been nothing but cold and cruel to her since his homecoming, and his words had hurt even as she knew she deserved them, but she'd also realized something. While he said one thing, his body definitely said something else entirely. She'd heard his heart rate accelerate like crazy when they bumped into one another. She'd seen his pupils expand as he gazed at her lips so perilously close to his own. She'd felt the indisputable evidence of his arousal, hard as steel where their thighs pressed together. He wasn't nearly as indifferent as he pretended to be. There was hope yet.

She settled into the back of the car, Bonnie climbing in on the other side, staying close for comfort and support, while Caroline gave her a worried glance in the rear view mirror.

So Damon wasn't the same person anymore, Elena thought, buckling her seat belt out of habit. Well, guess what? Neither was she. She was no longer a scared little girl who was too afraid to admit what she wanted. _He_ was what she wanted, and this time she had no doubts about that at all. He'd claimed he didn't intend to stay long – well, she wasn't letting him get away again so easily. When Damon had left, he'd taken her heart with him, leaving a gaping hole in her chest that never cleanly healed. She wasn't going through that again, not if she could prevent it. She was going to do whatever it took to change his mind and convince him to stay.

As Caroline piloted them away from the Mystic Grill, she squared her shoulders with resolve, already plotting the best way to seduce Damon Salvatore.


	5. Chapter 5

As it turned out, seducing Damon proved to be far more difficult than she'd anticipated, if only because he seemed to have developed a sixth sense for avoiding her. It was next to impossible for Elena to get him alone. Or in a group setting. Or to have pretty much any contact with her whatsoever. It would have been almost comical the way he vanished any time she came near except for the fact that it hurt so much.

On the few occasions she did manage to be around him, her efforts failed miserably.

Once, he wandered into the kitchen when she was already in there brewing up some coffee. She 'accidently' dropped the coffee scoop on the floor and bent over, knowing that her skimpy little shorts would reveal her long, tapered legs and the beginning swell of her shapely bottom. When she stood up and looked behind her to catch a glimpse of his reaction, he was gone.

Sigh.

Another time, she spied him out in the driveway working on the undercarriage of his car. She quickly cooked him lunch – okay, okay, she put some meat and cheese between two slices of bread and poured him a glass of his favorite blood type, not exactly a display of culinary skill, but still – and took it out to him. She figured mechanic work was probably a pretty thirsty endeavor, so he'd be grateful for a break and a chance to refresh himself.

Nope, not even a little. He refused to roll out from beneath his car, which left her staring at his shirtless lower abdomen, normally not even close to a bad thing, but she wanted to have a conversation with him which wasn't possible when he wouldn't even look at her. Reluctantly, she set the plate and glass down on the hood of his car and left him to his task. When she came back out an hour later, he'd pulled another disappearing act, and the sandwich and drink sat on the hood untouched.

Another big sigh.

Finally, when it became clear that she was running out of options, she went to his bedroom and packed up all of her things to take back to her house. She hadn't been living in his room exactly. She just spent an average of three or four nights a week there. Curling up in his sheets and sleeping surrounded by his scent. Taking bubble baths in his tub and wrapping herself in his fluffy white towels. Drinking coffee on his bedroom balcony when the weather was nice.

Alright, so that was probably kind of creepy, but it had afforded her some solace when she desperately needed it.

At any rate, a small part of her hoped that maybe if he got his room back, he might be more inclined to stay. She also cleaned it from top to bottom until it sparkled and looked more pristine than when it'd first been built in the early 1900's. She left a bowl of lavender scented potpourri on the bathroom counter and a vase of fragrant stargazer lilies on the nightstand by his bed.

She learned that he did indeed end up moving back into his room, but she was no closer to finding a way of breaking through his chilly, distant facade.

When she came over one particular evening, still refusing to give up, she walked in on Damon lounging on a couch in the living room, his head in the lap of some random girl while two other girls frolicked around the room, offering themselves up as slutty, intoxicated blood bags. They all had enviable curves and a noticeable lack of clothing. In fact, their 'clothes' consisted of nothing more than their underwear. Elena'd considered herself to be wearing a revealing outfit – skintight jeans and a blue tank top that left her arms, throat, and a decent percentage of her cleavage bare - but now she felt positively frumpy in comparison to these girls.

Damon didn't even glance up from the wrist he was draining in order to acknowledge her.

Chest tight, she quickly walked away, experiencing an intense urge to scrub her eyeballs with sand paper. She entered the library where she found Stefan reading in front of the fireplace. She plopped down glumly beside him and lamented, "He hates me. He hates me, and he doesn't want me anymore."

Stefan gently closed his book. "If there's one thing I know, it's that my brother does not hate you."

"He won't even be in the same room as me." She blew out a breath and buried her face in her hands. "Do you think he'll ever forgive me?"

"Well, I can hardly deny that holding a grudge is one of Damon's fortes. He was really angry with me for a really long time, but I think he's mostly beyond that now. If he can forgive me, I'd say you have nothing to worry about."

She looked up. "Great, so I just need to wait , what, a hundred and fifty years or so?"

Realistically, she understood that it would take some time to heal the emotional mess she'd created with her reckless actions, but it sucked big time. She wanted things to go back to the way they used to be, when Damon looked at her like she was the most beautiful, special girl he'd ever seen. When he'd loved her fiercely and unconditionally.

Stefan gave her one of his serious, soul-searching looks. "Have you forgiven him for what he did to you?"

Elena's lips twisted wryly. "For sleeping with me and keeping it a secret? Yes. I mean, I wish I'd found out differently, but I get why he was afraid to tell me. He thought I'd react badly." She glanced up at the ceiling ruefully. "He was right."

"Have you told him that? That you forgive him?"

"How can I? He won't give me the chance."

Stefan told her, "He doesn't react well to being hurt by the people he loves. Just give him some time. He'll come around."

She frowned. But what if she didn't have time? She didn't know Damon's schedule. He could leave today, for all she knew, and then she'd never see him again. No, she wouldn't let herself think like that. She would figure something out, some way to make him stay.

"Has he told you why he's come home?" she inquired hopefully.

Stefan shook his head. "I didn't ask. If he wants me to know, he'll tell me. And you'll be the first to know if he does."

She smiled gratefully at him. Over this last year, their once-romantic feelings had mellowed into a warm, comfortable friendship. He was genuine and wise and always had her back. He made her glad that at least one Salvatore didn't hate her, even though he had every right to since she'd left him because she'd fallen in love with his brother. Her face crumpled. "I'm terrible, aren't I? For all the things I've put you two through."

"Nah, you're not so bad," Stefan professed. "Honestly, I'm surprised you're still willing to put up with either one of us."

She laughed softly and stood. She wandered over to the shelves stuffed with books and let her fingers trail idly over worn spines, trying to tune out the sounds coming from the living room. Once she finally selected a book, she rejoined Stefan on the leather couch and tried to read companionably next to him.

Unfortunately, the reading material she'd chosen wasn't diverting enough to block out the revelry in the next room. She gritted her teeth and forced down the snarl threatening to erupt as she listened to the three bimbos who'd been dancing attendance on Damon leave through the front door in a flutter of girly sighs and giggles.

Moments later, she heard water begin running upstairs, and since the sound lasted for a good while, she figured Damon must be taking a shower.

 _Trying to wash the skank off,_ she thought pissily.

She attempted to continue her reading but couldn't stop her mind from constantly wandering to the tantalizing vision of a sexy, wet Damon rinsing himself off in his luxurious glass-walled shower. She had zero trouble picturing how hot water would beat against defined pecs and ridges of stomach muscles. Steam would be floating around him, embracing him in a cloudy haze of liquid heat. Droplets would gather in his navel before finally descending and matting down the crisp line of black hair that pointed south. Maybe he'd even be soapy, sudsy bubbles coating his smooth, lithe body. Maybe he'd reach down with a soap-slickened hand and palm the generous length of his –

The water turned off, and she abruptly sat up straight, slamming her book shut. Stefan looked over at her curiously.

Fighting a blush and losing, she mumbled, "I'm going to go take a walk. I need some air."

And she wasn't lying, exactly. She _did_ take a walk … right upstairs to Damon's room. She slipped inside, silent as a ghost.

He was still drying himself off, so she waited until he came strolling out of the bathroom, a white towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. His raven hair was still damp, and she observed a single water droplet fall from the wet ends and snake its way over his shoulder and down to a nipple. She was gripped by the desire to go to him and lean in really close and examine the path that drop took with her tongue ….

When he saw her, he cursed inventively, startling her from her fantasy. He groused, "Why won't you just leave me alone? You do realize that you've now officially entered creepy stalker territory."

Her mouth quirked upwards. "Says the guy who used to creepily stalk his brother's girlfriend. Besides, you used to enter my room uninvited all the time, so turnabout's fair play."

"Yeah, well, the key phrase in all that was 'used to'." His lip curled scornfully. "You just can't stand it, can you? Not having everyone wrapped around your little finger. Just like Katherine."

Ouch, that stung. She didn't want to be anything like Katherine. "That's not fair."

"Go home, Elena."

"Just give me five minutes. Hear me out. There are things I need to tell you, and then I promise I'll go. Please, Damon, you owe me that much."

His eyes glittered angrily, sunlight flashing off a glacier. "I don't owe you jack shit. Don't you get it? I'm not going to do this with you, because whatever you have to say, I don't care."

"I don't believe you." There was no way that what he'd felt for her could just be gone, even after all this time. What she felt for him certainly wasn't.

"I don't care what you believe as long as you go."

The violence in his voice should have intimidated her, but it didn't. She stuck her chin out stubbornly. "No."

"Dammit, Elena, I'm not asking! Get out. You shouldn't be here."

She ground her teeth together, though what she really wanted to do was scream. Fly at him and beat his chest with her fists. Slap him. Anything to force him out from behind the wall he had built and was using to shut her out.

Instead, she decided to resort to a method guaranteed to get results – at least, it had once before. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Okay," she conceded, "so I shouldn't be here. I also probably shouldn't do this." She pulled her tank top over her head, a deliberate provocation.

A muscle ticked in Damon's cheek, and something dark and ravenous flickered across his features.

"Or this." She whipped her bra off and flung it onto the floor. Her nipples were already hard.

Damon took one step toward her, then stopped himself, eyes focused like lasers on her bare breasts. "Don't."

Ignoring him, she undid the top button of her jeans while kicking off her sneakers. "And I bet this would be a really bad idea, too." She shimmied out of her tight jeans, letting them pool on the floor at her feet.

"Elena," he snarled in a warning tone.

"And I shouldn't do this, either, right?" Her panties came off, and she boldly flaunted herself in front of him. When he just stood there, frozen like a marble statue, she walked over to the wide bed and eased down onto it, plumping up one of the downy soft pillows behind her head. She spread her legs while keeping her knees bent so that he was assured a direct view of what lay between.

This was it. She was going to penetrate his defenses and tear down that wall even if she had to abandon every ounce of modesty in the process. Then, he would listen to her.

Biting her lower lip, she trailed her hand down her tan stomach until she reached that place that throbbed. "And I _definitely_ shouldn't touch myself while thinking about you."

She closed her eyes, teeth digging deeper into her lip, and let her fingers play, pretending it was his hand, his tongue rousing her to a feverish pitch. When she reopened her eyes with a soft moan, he was standing flush against the foot of the bed, fixated on what she was doing to herself, nostrils wide as he breathed in deep her lush womanly scent. His towel had become a massive tent. His features were hard and emotionless, but his hands continually clenched and unclenched at his side, betraying the vicious internal struggle that raged within him.

"Damon," she entreated hoarsely, fingers continuing to slide through slick heat, daring him with her gaze to join her.

Ultimately, his resistance lost. With a growl, he practically vaulted onto the bed and prowled across the remaining distance towards her with lethal, panther-like grace. He snagged both of her hands and pressed them into the pillow above her head, pinning her under him, holding her captive. She was surrounded by his scent – familiar yet thrilling, masculine, intoxicating. The sexual heat pouring off him was intense and wild. When he spoke, his voice was low, husky, a dark wave that washed over and through her. "You know I'm going to fuck you now, right?"

Did he think she'd object? "So do it."

"And I'm not going to have any mercy." A warning and a promise simultaneously.

"It's not your mercy that I want," she replied.

Sitting up, he whipped off his towel faster than the eye could follow. The sight of him turned her brain to mush. She sat up as well and reached for him, seeking more intimate contact, yearning to touch that proud, aroused flesh.

Her hands went first to his flat stomach. Sleek, toned muscles flexed beneath her touch. Then, her hands slid lower, and as she wrapped her fingers around all that hot, velvety smoothness, he hissed in a breath through clenched teeth. His hips bucked.

"There hasn't been any one else since you," she told him, looking up at him through long lashes as she continued to gently stroke him. She wanted him to know that she'd never desired anyone else, not even when she hadn't known if she'd ever see him again. "I never - "

A hand encircled her throat, shutting off her air and forcing her into silence. He leaned in and brushed his mouth against her ear, whispering silkily, "One more word. Say one more fucking word and this stops."

He drew back, hooded, deceptively sleepy gaze meeting hers. She shut her mouth so fast her teeth clicked. She pressed her lips together just in case a sound tried to come out, waiting with bated breath for his next move.

The faintest smile curved his lips, and it wasn't a very nice one. "Good girl."

A shiver raced down her spine, and her skin prickled.

His hand traveled up her throat to rest against her cheek. His thumb softly caressed her bottom lip, a teasing, sensual touch that stood in marked contrast to the pressure he'd just exerted on her windpipe. She tentatively bit the tip of his thumb, not quite hard enough to break the skin. His eyes flared and, next thing she knew, he'd reversed her in a blur of motion and shoved her face first into the mattress.

Gripping her hips in a bruising hold, he lifted her perky ass into the air, nudging her thighs wider with his knees. There was some movement behind her that she sensed but couldn't see, and then he entered her from behind without warning, roughly impaling her.

Her eyes watered and she gasped, fisting her hands in the bedspread, because his savage taking was pleasure and pain at the same time. His subsequent thrusts were equally forceful, each one harder, faster, deeper. Simply feeling him where she'd needed him for so long was almost enough to make her orgasm right away.

It was both exhilarating and terrifying the way her body responded so strongly to what he was doing to her. He was slaking a need to take and punish, and she gave herself up to him, welcoming it eagerly, because it felt really freaking good and because she was willing to do whatever was necessary to help him work through his anger and resentment. If that meant enduring some rough sex … well, that was more than okay with her.

Definitely more than okay.

He maintained his forceful intensity, driving into her warm, giving body, and she reveled in the primitive, feral noises she was wringing from him. A dozen, two dozen more thrusts, and then suddenly he was no longer inside her, and she glanced back over her shoulder. No, he couldn't stop. Not yet. She was so close, and she wanted more, her lust not even close to being quenched.

Fortunately, however, he wasn't done. He merely intended to flip her onto her back, which he did, stretching over her and blanketing her achy flesh with his own. She wanted to pant his name, beg him to take her again until they were both drained and sated, but she remembered in time his threat should she say anything. She swallowed her pleas, unwilling to take the slightest risk that this might end.

Biting her lip so that only breathy, imploring sounds escaped her, she undulated against him, arching stiff nipples into his chest, rubbing the softest part of her along the hardest part of him, using her body to tell him what she so desperately craved.

He captured her gaze with wary blue eyes and murmured in a voice devoid of any inflection, "There's been no one else."

Even though he was attempting to conceal it, she could read the vulnerability, and the hope, in that one statement.

Raising her hand and cupping his cheek, she whispered, "Just you."

With piercing eyes, he searched the delicate lines of her face as though he could determine from them the veracity of her claim. Then he grimaced as if he were in pain and rose away from her. Panic raced through her as she thought he was leaving, angered that she'd spoken out loud, but she needn't have worried. He hooked his arms under her knees and fell back down on top of her, basically folding her in half.

She twined her arms around him, gliding her fingers through his still wet hair, and pulled his head close. Canting her head to the side, she offered her throat to him, a gesture meant to appeal to his obvious need to dominate.

Veins darted out around his eyes, and he sank his fangs into the juncture of her neck and shoulder at the same instant that his shaft penetrated her. Her blood burned like wildfire as he sucked it from her veins while hitting all of her sensitive spots with each urgent thrust of his hips. She writhed beneath him, crying out wordlessly because there were no words for the ecstasy he was giving her. He pounded her vigorously into the mattress so that the creaking of bed springs filled her ears as well as the sound of their naked flesh slapping together.

She knew that this time his frenetic pace had nothing to do with punishing her anymore and everything to do with a control that had completely shattered. She knew that because she felt it too, the loss of control, having missed him so much while he was gone. The past fell away, and she lost herself to need, to the pressure and friction, to bliss, to the fact that Damon was back and finally right where he should be.

Retracting his fangs from her throat, his head came up with a sound of raw abandon, and he stared down at her with lust-glazed eyes, reddened mouth parted, his breath leaving him in hot, rapid bursts.

With a tortured groan, muscles bunching and straining, his pleasure peaked, and the pulsing sensation when he released into her triggered her own sweet climax. She came, moaning his name, passion consuming her whole.

Collapsing bonelessly on top of her, he rested his forehead on hers and let go of her legs, allowing them to lower and wrap softly around his waist. He was still pumping slowly, minutely in and out of her as if he couldn't bring himself to actually stop having sex with her. His weight bearing her down into the mattress felt heavenly, as did the eddies of pleasure still rippling through her.

"That was pretty amazing," she murmured, dark almond eyes sparkling happily.

He smiled softly in agreement. "Mmhmm."

Their noses touched, brushed gently together. She brought her mouth to his, pressing lightly. Her blood still stained his lips, giving them an indescribably erotic taste.

At first, he returned the kiss, and it was a gentle, sweet kiss that stole her breath away. His tongue slipped between her teeth and stroked tenderly. She whimpered, and he stiffened at the sound. Then, in between one heart beat and the next, he flipped a switch and became a completely different person. Who was still trying to maintain his wall, it seemed. His eyes snapped open, and he rolled swiftly off her to lie on his back, glaring up at the ceiling.

She turned on her side to face him, pillowing her head on her arm and hoping that small, tenuous moment of connection between them hadn't completely passed. "Damon, what I said that night…I didn't mean it." She took a deep breath to explain further.

But he had no interest in hearing her out and said coldly, "You got what you wanted. You can go now."

She raised her head up in astonishment. "What?"

"You heard me. Get out."

For a few seconds, she was frozen, shocked to her core. She couldn't believe this was actually happening, that _Damon_ would be so cruel as to kick her out of his bed. It had never once occurred to her that getting him into bed wouldn't be enough to win him over and affect a change in his heart, to turn him back into the old Damon who loved and forgave her no matter what.

He turned his head to the side and regarded her with crystalline blue eyes full of mocking amusement. His tone dripped with an abundance of contempt. "You did say turnabout's fair play, did you not?"

She still hadn't moved, was waiting for him to say something, _anything_ to soften his sharp words. She felt as if she'd toppled off the edge of a precipice and was floundering wildly through empty space.

But he did nothing to ease her free fall. He turned away from her without another word, fixing his gaze back on the ceiling.

In a daze, she slid from his bed and dressed. Gathering together the tattered shreds of her pride as best she could, she exited his room and made it downstairs, though not quite out the front door. She tripped over a wrinkle in the foyer rug and collapsed to her knees. She remained where she fell, doubting her ability to get back up again. She could still smell Damon's scent on her skin, feel a lingering wetness between her legs.

She stared down at the pattern on the rug as if it were some sort of lifeline, as if she could use it to make sense of what had just happened if she could only decipher the answer that lay hidden in the shapes and zig-zag lines.

She kept expecting tears to fall, but they didn't. Maybe it was because she felt only a hollow sensation in her gut. There was nothing inside her but emptiness. The pain would come eventually, of that she had no doubt, and then she would cry. She would drown in tears. But for now, there was just … nothing.

Dimly, it registered that Stefan was nearby and he was speaking to her. "Elena, are you alright?"

She looked up at him with wide eyes, and whatever he saw must have startled him. He dropped down beside her. "What happened?"

"He hates me." She squeezed her eyes shut. "Do you think you could help me out to my car, please?" She was proud when her voice didn't waver or break.

"Yeah, of course. Why don't I just drive you home?"

"Thank you," she whispered.

Stefan's strong arms assisted her as she rose, handling her like she was made of glass, and he mercifully led her out of the boarding house. A single miserable thought cycled endlessly through her mind: what was she supposed to do now?


	6. Chapter 6

"You're welcome, Mrs Fell," Elena uttered dutifully.

The elderly lady winked. "You're a sweet girl. And such a looker, just like your mother, god rest her soul. If you see my grandson, make sure he asks you to dance."

With that, Mrs Fell walked away to join the hubbub of well-dressed people mingling at the ball, and Elena let her wan smile slip. She tipped her glass up and downed the rest of her champagne and reminded herself that she had volunteered to be here. Along with Caroline and Bonnie, she was supposed to be helping out at the Founder's Day charity ball in the hopes that it would fill up her time and keep her too busy to dwell on … things she didn't want to dwell on. Even though wearing a happy social mask was taxing, it was easier than thinking about … a certain someone when she had no clue what to do about that certain someone.

For the last week or so, she just hadn't even let herself go there. She didn't want to deal it, because then she'd have to deal with the very real possibility that, if Damon wasn't willing to give her a second chance or even listen to her side of things, then she might have very well lost him forever.

So here she was greeting the influx of Mystic Falls residents with a stiff spine, choking out pleasant nothings, a sunny expression affixed to her face as they danced and drank and donated large sums of money all for a good cause.

Usually, she enjoyed getting all dolled up in a beautiful dress that made her look and feel stunning, and her current dress certainly fit that bill. Variations of light and dark pink swirled across satiny, butter-soft fabric that fell to her ankles. A strapless sweetheart neckline propped her breasts up enticingly, and the bodice hugged her figure, emphasizing her slim waist. To complete the look, her long brown hair was pinned up in a stylish mass on top of her head, and she wore just enough make-up to highlight the smokiness of her eyes and the sensuous shape of her lips.

However, the only person she cared about seeing her like this currently seemed to hate her – or at the very least, wanted nothing to do with her.

She grimaced. Maybe she _would_ go find Mrs Fell's grandson and dance with him. As well as the dozen or so other boys who'd already asked and she'd politely declined. Why not? She didn't really want to, but maybe it would distract her for a little while.

But first, she decided to go refill her glass of champagne and check on the caterers, even though that was Caroline's task. The blonde vampire undoubtedly had them running with clockwork precision, so Elena's visit would be completely unnecessary, but it would be nice to hang out with her friend who was pretty reliable about cheering her up.

Gathering up her dress in one hand so she wouldn't trip, she took a single step and then halted. Her plan to avoid thinking about … things she wanted to avoid thinking about was presently going to crap because Damon had just walked through the door. Her heart did a double-stutter before it resumed beating at double its typical pace. She'd had no idea he'd be attending, hadn't even seen him since the night he'd callously ejected her from his bed, and thus she was completely unprepared for his arrival. Though he was on the opposite side of the room, distance didn't matter. She could still see him in vivid, minute detail.

Artfully tousled raven hair. Full lips stretched in a cocky grin. Extraordinary ice blue eyes gleaming. A lean, powerful body encased in a perfectly tailored black and white tuxedo.

Damn, he knew how to wear the hell out of a tuxedo.

And then she noticed the woman on his arm. A woman who was curvy and petite and beautiful. She wore a long red dress, and light brown hair framed a face with hazel eyes and scarlet lips. He bent to whisper something in her ear. She emitted a throaty laugh, one hand smoothing down his bicep.

Elena hated her on sight. Her fingers curled into talons. She wanted to scratch the bitch's eyes out. Claw her face into bloody ribbons. Who was she? How did Damon know her? How long had he known her? How _well_ did he know her?

Just then, Damon glanced up, his eyes traveling over the clusters of assembled people as if he was searching for something. Or someone. When his gaze alighted on her, his smile died, and his face went carefully blank. She watched his hand slide down the woman's body to rest at the small of her back. He broke eye contact with her and escorted his date away in the opposite direction. They disappeared in a swirl of guests.

Jealousy rose up like bile. Elena's grip tightened unconsciously, and the champagne flute in her hand shattered, the glass shards tinkling to the ground.

Mrs. Lockwood happened to be walking by right then. "Elena, honey, is everything alright? What happened?"

"I'm fine," she babbled, "I'm so sorry, Mrs Lockwood. I didn't mean to make a mess." She hid her hand behind her back before Mrs. Lockwood could ask to see it.

Tyler's mom smiled reassuringly. "It's okay. I'll notify the staff that there's been an accident. Make sure no one steps on the glass or slips." She hurried off.

Elena drew her hand from behind her back and opened it. Two splinters of glass stuck out of her palm. She plucked them out. As she watched, the wounds instantly subsided into healthy, healed skin, though smears of blood remained.

Out of nowhere, Bonnie grabbed her elbow and whirled her around. "Breathe, Elena."

Her brow creased. "What?"

Bonnie gave her a pointed look. "Your face."

Only then did Elena realize that her eyes had grown hot and were no doubt turning red as veins coursed down her cheeks.

 _Relax, Gilbert,_ she admonished herself. _It'd be really bad if you revealed to everyone in town that you're a monster_. She inhaled and exhaled deeply until the calming breaths had an effect, and her face gradually returned to normal. By then, Caroline had joined them.

"Skank alert. Damon's here."

"Yeah, we got that memo," Bonnie said.

Caroline scented the air. "Why do I smell blood?"

"That's me." Elena held up her crimson-streaked hand.

Caroline grabbed a cocktail napkin off a nearby table and dabbed away the blood while asking, "What is he doing here? You didn't invite him, did you?"

"No!" Elena exclaimed, snatching her hand back. "Of course not. In fact, I'd rather not talk about him, okay?"

Caroline smiled broadly. "I have just the thing. Follow me."

By then, some staff had shown up and were busy clearing up the glass on the floor, so, desperate for a distraction, she let Bonnie and Caroline lead her off, though she couldn't resist looking back over her shoulder. Damon and his date were nowhere to be seen.

They ended up in a room upstairs where the younger generation of Mystic Falls, including Matt, Tyler, Jeremy, and even Mrs Fell's grandson, had snuck off to play drinking games. Expensive antique furniture had been cleared from the middle of the room and replaced by a table more suitable for a rousing game of beer pong.

Elena settled into a chair and watched for a little bit. Bonnie came over and handed her a new glass full of champagne. "You don't want to play?" the witch inquired.

"I don't think I'll be very much fun right now, honestly."

Bonnie smiled reassuringly. "Everything's going to be okay. You'll see."

Elena attempted a smile in return. "I know, but … I just, um, need some fresh air." She couldn't stand pretending to be okay for one more second.

Making her way downstairs, she headed for the buffet where guests grazed at a set of long tables laden with platters of fruit, hor d'oeuvres, and pastries. She chose a chocolate cupcake and started nibbling on it. She didn't possess much of an appetite, so it tasted more like ashes than chocolate.

"You must be Elena."

She froze mid-swallow and slanted a look sideways. The woman that Damon had brought to the ball was standing nearby.

"I'm Charlotte. Damon's girlfriend."

Elena started choking, her throat suddenly dry and clogged with cupcake crumbs.

The woman grinned, though it looked more like she was baring her teeth. "Surely he's mentioned me."

Forcing the cupcake down her esophagus, Elena shook her head. "Uh, nope, sorry. Can I help you?"

"I just wanted to meet the bitch responsible for breaking his heart."

"Excuse me?" Unease shot through her.

Charlotte's hazel eyes suddenly seemed to glow with an unhinged light, and her vivid scarlet mouth took on a ghoulish appearance. She warned, "If you want to do what's right for Damon, then you need to stay away from him. Don't you think you've done enough damage?"

Something dark uncoiled and writhed like a snake in Elena's gut. She dug her nails into her palms to prevent herself from vamping out in front of this crazy bitch. "What I think is that you should walk away. _Now_."

"Of course, I hope I haven't upset you." Charlotte looked like that was exactly what she hoped.

"Not at all." Elena's words came out as a hiss.

"It was really nice to finally meet you, Elena. I hope you heed my advice, or you might not like the consequences." Charlotte whirled with a swish of her red dress and walked off.

For a moment, Elena stood there, frozen. Had she really just been threatened by one of Damon's floozies? She should follow that woman, corner her somewhere without witnesses, and tear her stupid throat out –

Inhaling a shocked breath, she realized she'd just been seriously contemplating _murder_. What was wrong with her?

Appalled by her dark impulses, she pivoted and fled.

Initially unsure of her destination, she wound up out on the empty balcony that ran above the entrance to of the Founder's Hall. Soft moonlight illuminated her, and a gentle wind toyed with strands of her hair that had come loose.

Taking small sips of her champagne, she gazed up at the canopy of stars and wished more than anything that she was anywhere else. She resolved to go back inside and find Mrs Lockwood and offer her some flimsy excuse about why she had to leave early. But before she could execute her resolution, someone joined her on the balcony. Of course, that someone was Damon, because her luck was pretty much nonexistent these days.

He walked to the railing and rested a hand on it. She couldn't stop herself from admiring the way moonlight and shadows wrapped themselves around his handsome profile, highlighting angular cheeks and a sculpted jaw line. He looked flawless, standing there with all the beauty of a tragically fallen angel denied entry through the gates of paradise.

He turned the slightest bit and shot her a stare full of reproach. "I didn't realize anyone else was out here."

"I was just leaving." She gulped down the last of her champagne and set the empty flute down on the railing. She had zero desire to stick around and hear whatever cruel barbs he was prepared to hurl at her. No, thank you.

As she turned to go, he moved in front of her, cutting off her escape route. He was only inches from her. She found his nearness both delicious and disturbing. His smoldering gaze roamed brazenly over her. "You look … incredible. But I'm sure you've already heard that a hundred times tonight."

Her answering smile was watery. "Thank you. You look pretty dashing yourself." Indeed, he did cut a devilishly good-looking figure in his black tux. He also had the nerve to smell amazing. No need for cologne. Just his natural scent of dark spices drifting on the breeze and filling her nostrils.

"Elena….," he began.

She arched a brow and waited expectantly.

He cleared his throat. "You should wear your hair down."

She should have known that any compliment he gave her was only a prelude to a criticism. "I don't think how I wear my hair is any of your business. You've made that pretty clear."

He reached up and plucked the combs holding her hair in place off her head, freeing the coiffed tresses so that they tumbled down her back in loose, shining curls.

"Damon!"

"Much better." A shadow of a smile danced on his sensual, cynical lips while cool air ruffled his raven hair.

"You are such an ass. Give me those," she huffed indignantly. She snatched the combs from him and glared while slipping them into her purse. "I wouldn't stay out here too long if I were you, or your _charming_ girlfriend will start to wonder where you are."

He cocked his head. "You're jealous."

"No, I - " She pursed her lips. Did he have to sound so delighted? "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I've had too much champagne." She went to step around him, but he shifted in sync with her, not allowing her to pass.

Could he be any more confusing? First he acted like he hated her and couldn't stand being around her, but now he was messing with her and wouldn't let her leave. If he thought she was going to try and keep up with his mercurial mood shifts, he'd best think again.

"Seriously?" she demanded.

He didn't respond. The color of his eyes darkened and intensified, and something in the air between them shifted.

He reached out and ghosted his fingers through the hair flowing freely about her face. When he cradled her face with both hands, he did so carefully, tentatively as if she were a timid doe he didn't wish to startle into flight. Thumbs grazing tenderly along the bones of her cheeks, he leaned in slowly, granting her plenty of time to realize his intent and turn away if she so desired. Then he kissed her. She shouldn't have let him, but his mouth was velvety and warm and felt too good.

She should stop him. She should curse him as a bastard for the way he'd treated her. But she didn't. The warm press of his lips lingered for a long time, made her feel dizzy and alive, like currents of electricity were sparking through her.

When he pulled back, still holding her face, he regarded her thoughtfully. Starlight danced in the blue depths of his eyes.

Once she found her voice, she whispered, "What are you doing?"

"Something incredibly stupid." He kissed her again, and she let him again, returning his ardor just as fervently.

His hands slid to her nape, winding his fingers in her long hair. His lips descended and left a scorching trail along the warm bend of her throat. He murmured into her skin, "Elena, Elena, Elena," over and over again. She melted into him, and his weight drove her back against the railing, pressing their bodies together. She fit perfectly into every line and hollow of his frame.

It was her turn to grab his face with both hands. She forced him to meet her gaze. They stared at each other for what felt like an anguished eternity before she repeated, "What are you doing?"

"You drive me fucking nuts," he replied as if that explained anything.

Then he claimed her lips again with a hot, hungry mouth. His wild, sweet taste left her light-headed. The only thing keeping her grounded was a desire that burned through her with the searing clarity of fire. She felt his hands slide downwards, over the ridges of her spine, then around and past the curve of her ass. He gathered up the folds of her pink dress, hiking the hem above her knee, so he could reach beneath it. The sinful heat of his fingers climbed up her bare thigh to arrive at damp panties. She spread her legs so he would have all the access he required.

He groaned into her mouth, "You're already so wet. Naughty little girl, you want this." He ripped away the fragile underwear with barely a twitch of his hand and let it drift to the ground at their feet. He kissed her again as he slipped a finger inside her.

"Damon," she gasped, clutching his arm, arresting the hand that was intimately exploring her. "Why are you here?" she asked him breathlessly.

His face darkened, brows drawing together thunderously.

"At this charity ball," she clarified.

The storm clouds departed. "Donating a new wing to Mystic Falls Hospital. The Salvatore Pediatric Surgery Center. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

She blinked. "How very … generous of you."

His lips twitched the slightest bit. "And I may have been bored."

Her heart constricted. "Is that what this is? Boredom?"

"No, this … this is me being selfish. I haven't been able to think about anything else since the moment I walked through the front door and laid eyes on you." His finger began to move again, pressing deeper, and his thumb skimmed over her sweet spot, then circled lightly, making her jump. "Tell me to walk away and I will." He sounded like that's exactly what he expected her to say.

She opened her mouth intending to do just that. This was completely inappropriate. They needed to seriously talk, not just have more crazy, passionate sex. Plus, he was an asshole and he was just going to use her and she didn't know if her heart could survive that again and, for god's sake, he'd shown up with someone else who claimed to be his girlfriend so she should have _some_ pride.

But her body was a wanton traitor, so all that emerged was, "Stay."

He smirked that crooked smirk that always heated her blood and resumed kissing her, a thorough exploration of tongues and teeth. She really was some kind of special idiot for wanting this. For wanting him with a strength that took her breath away.

His fingers continued to stroke her with an expert skill that was as intoxicating as any drug. He knew exactly where to go. What to do. Her hips rocked in time to his ministrations while every muscle in her body slowly dissolved into liquid. Luxurious heat spread through her, so very hot.

She twisted against him. "Damon, I'm about to…"

He withdrew his hand right as she hovered on the cusp, right before she found her release. "Why?" she practically wailed.

"Not yet."

"Why?"

"Because we're not even close to done yet." His hands went to her waist and he lifted her up onto the railing like she weighed nothing, wrapping her long legs around his middle.

She knew that any of the guests milling about on the lawn could easily look up and see them, but she knew that in a distant, hazy kind of way, in a she really couldn't bring herself to care kind of way.

Or someone might walk out on the balcony and catch them so profoundly interlocked. Again, she didn't care. Not enough to tell him to stop.

His mouth ran along her collar bone, sending skittery waves of goose bumps over her flushed skin. He used one hand to yank the top of her dress down so that her breasts spilled out into the night air. She arched her back, and he accepted the invitation, taking a nipple in his mouth, lavishing the taut peak with a wicked tongue before turning his attention to the other. As he licked and nipped, her head rolled back on her shoulders and her eye lids grew heavy.

The feeling of him wedged between her legs so hard and ready while he ravished her breasts was arousing to the point of being unbearable. She needed him inside her. It was all she could think about. She reached down and undid his zipper, releasing his swollen length. Tugging him close, she guided him into her without any further delay.

He let out a groan of pure male pleasure. His head reared up from her breasts, and they locked eyes for a single moment. There was a wild yearning in his stare that matched the tumult inside of her.

"Christ, how do you do this to me, baby girl?" he breathed.

Laughable. She should be the one asking him that question.

Then he slammed his mouth over hers again, and she was robbed of all thought. He braced his hands on the railing on either side of her, enclosing her in his powerful frame, the stiff fabric of his tux abrading her nipples. He remained still, seated deep in her, the only movement the swirling and tangling of their tongues.

She glided her hands over his hips and beneath the waistband of his pants. When she cupped the hard curves of his ass, sleek muscles tensed and flexed beneath her palms. She pricked the smooth skin with her nails, urging him to move.

Which he did. He began to pump, softly, slowly. All the way in, then all the way out. Taking his time. Savoring. Milking every inch. Filling and stretching her perfectly.

The agonizing slowness of each thrust and withdrawal was killing her softly. Maybe he was mindful of being noticed by those below. Or, much more likely, he simply wanted to torture her.

She needed more. Though she clenched her hands around his ass to encourage him to pound away in earnest, he refused, displaying a tender restraint that drove her crazy and made her desperate for relief. Ever increasing pressure coiled in her low belly. She bit into his bottom lip, suckling greedily at the blood that spilled hot and coppery into her mouth.

Only at the very end did he finally speed up, finding a rhythm that sent her into waves of ecstasy. She gave a strangled cry and dug bloody nail marks into his ass cheeks as spine-melting pleasure burst and spilled through her.

He quickly followed her over the edge. He buried his face in the slender crook of her neck and growled, "Fuck, _Elena_." Shuddering, his fingers tightened on the railing, cracking the ledge and sending showers of white dust raining onto the ground.

After a little while, their breathing returned to normal and their heartbeats slowed. His head lifted. Waxen moonlight and a look of pure masculine satisfaction lent Damon's features a languid, serene cast. She gazed up into impossibly blue eyes partially shielded by black lashes and felt thoroughly well-sated. Optimism spread through her. It wasn't too late. He didn't hate her.

Her hands rose to caress his satiny lapels. With every bit of her broken heart visible in her brown eyes, she whispered urgently, "Damon, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I need you to know that I love - "

"Don't," he interrupted, lowering his gaze as though he wanted to avoid what he was seeing in her eyes the same way he wanted to avoid whatever it was she was going to say.

Her fingers tightened on his lapels, wrinkling the black fabric. "Why not? Damon…."

"Fuck!" he snarled, recoiling from her as though she were a stray shaft of sunlight he'd had the misfortune to wander into without the aid of his daylight ring. He tucked himself back into his pants and put his clothing to rights with agitated hands.

"I don't understand," she pleaded, wanting him to explain why he was fighting this.

He turned back to her, though several feet now yawned between them. "This was a mistake."

"It didn't feel like a mistake," she countered.

He scrubbed his hand down his face. "Fuck," he swore again more harshly than before, then whirled and stalked off the balcony.

Slowly, she slid off the ledge but kept one hand on it to steady her trembling legs. Wiping a strand of hair from her eye and tucking it behind her ear, she bent and picked up the filmy remnants of her panties, stuffing them into her purse. She struggled to regain some composure and make herself presentable by pulling her bodice back up over her breasts and smoothing her hands down her wrinkled dress. She didn't even want to know what her makeup looked like. Running a hand through her lamentably mussed hair and hoping that no one would remark on her obvious state of _dishabille_ , she reluctantly exited the balcony and rejoined the party.

* * *

"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. I really wish you were here. I could use your advice right about now."

She knelt there for awhile in the cemetery on the cool, manicured lawn, finding comfort in her parent's nearness. Finally, she rose, unconcerned with the grass stains on her dress. She kissed the tips of her fingers which she then pressed against their joint tombstone. Aunt Jenna's, too.

She was about to leave and go home when something compelled her to make one more stop. She reversed course and headed for the opposite side of the cemetery. It wasn't as well-maintained, and green grass gave way to leaf-strewn earth and fragrant pine needles. Luckily, the moon shone luminously, enabling her to pick her way around the graves with ease. When she reached her destination, she was surprised to discover someone already there.

Damon slouched irreverently on a neighboring grave marker, staring bleakly at Ric's headstone. He was alone, a bottle of bourbon clutched in one pale hand. He still wore his tux, but he'd undone the bow tie so that it dangled limply around his neck.

She debated whether she should approach. She didn't want to bother him. But in the end, she couldn't force herself to walk away from him, either. She came closer until she was standing beside him.

"I come here a lot," she said softly. "Just to talk and tell him how Jeremy and I are doing. That he doesn't need to worry. I know he's really glad you're back."

Damon didn't say anything, just upended the liquor bottle and took a long guzzle.

She looked down at her toes. "About earlier - "

"We covered this already. I had a moment of weakness. That's kind of my thing." He scowled. "It won't happen again."

"Is that really what you think I want? Because it's not."

"What about what I want? Has that ever mattered to you? Even once?" His voice was very cold and very far away.

"Of course, that matters to me."

"Then why are we having this conversation?" He sighed and stared dully off into the distance. "Do you know why I left?"

"Because I hurt you."

"Because Stefan and I made a promise to each other that whoever you didn't choose would leave and let the other be happy." He took another swig. "Well, you definitely didn't choose me, so I left. I needed to be free of you, so I didn't have to fucking hurt anymore. Loving you … was hell, and there's only so much pain a man can take."

Her heart cracked at his confession.

He stood up and walked closer to Ric's gravestone. He poured the rest of the bottle out onto the ground, letting the earth soak up the liquor, an offering to his dearly departed friend. Then he set the bottle down in front of the headstone the way people usually leave flowers. After a few moments of silence, he rose and approached her. Once he drew abreast of her, he remarked, "I spent the last year moving on. Seems like you should've been doing the same."

And then she was alone. Her heart finished crumbling into a million pieces. Her hand rose to cover her mouth as tears coursed down her cheeks. She wanted desperately to wake up and realize that this entire evening had been a horrible dream. But it wasn't a dream, and no matter how long she stood there, nothing changed. It was too late. There wasn't going to be any happy ending for her and Damon. He didn't love her anymore. She had lost him forever.

And that knowledge was colder and darker than a bottomless well.

She was unaware of how much time passed. She only knew that it did. The graveyard was still and empty this late at night, the silence broken only by chirping crickets and her ragged sobs.

When she heard dry leaves crackle behind her, she hastily dashed the back of her hand under her eyes, wiping away the tears. She assumed Damon had returned and didn't want him to see how badly he'd devastated her. Inhaling deeply in an effort to try and steady the jagged pounding of her heart, she started to swivel around, but before she could, something solid connected with the back of her skull. She toppled forward. Darkness rose over her like an ominous wave before it dragged her down into a sea of black oblivion.


	7. Chapter 7

Elena's eyes flew open, wide and terrified. She didn't recognize the room she was in. Her whole body hurt like hell.

How long had she been unconscious? Where was she? What was going on?

Trying to calm her racing heart, she took stock of her situation. She was lying on a bed in an otherwise completely empty room. She still wore her pink dress from the ball. When she tried to sit up, she discovered both of her arms were stretched tightly over her head. Her bound wrists were connected to the bed's wooden headboard. Her feet were bound together and tied to the baseboard. This discovery set off a series of frantic struggles as she tried to free herself. She thrashed around until her arms were all but wrenched from their sockets but to no avail.

She was only bound with rope, and the bed was only wood. With her vampire strength, she should be able to easily break free. But for some reason she felt oddly weak and achy. There was a faint, unpleasant burning in her veins, and her mind was woozy. What was wrong with her?

Though they were muted, she stretched what senses she still retained, seeking more clues. There was a morbid stillness to the room she was in. Cobwebs decorated the corners, and a thick film of dust covered every flat surface. The room smelled of disuse and decay, as though a small rodent had gotten trapped in the walls and died and was now permeating the stale air with its death stench. The only window was boarded up tightly. The bed she was tied to was only a frame and a bare, stained mattress.

Clearly, she wasn't at the Ritz.

She didn't know why she was where she was or what was going on, but whatever the reason, it couldn't be good. She had to get out of there. She pulled again on her restraints, but her muscles protested even that, and her efforts served simply to exhaust her.

While she was struggling in vain, a door creaked open. Standing in the doorway with a spine-chilling smile was Charlotte. She was dressed in tight black slacks and a mint green blouse. She made Elena think of an evil thin mint.

"Good, you're awake," the petite woman said.

"What the hell?" Elena demanded, completely aghast. Had this bitch stalked her from the ball and knocked her out in the cemetery? "Are you insane? Let me go!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that. I need you. You're going to be a present."

"A present?"

Charlotte didn't elaborate further. She entered the room and sat down on the bed beside Elena. She pulled a pair of white driving gloves out of her pocket, taking her sweet time as she stabbed each digit into the finger sheaths. Once her hands were fully covered, she removed something else out of her pocket – a thin green herb with spiky purple flowers. Vervain. She held up the plant and smirked maliciously.

If Charlotte needed to don gloves before touching vervain, then that meant…. "You're a vampire?" Elena asked.

"For about six months now, right after I met Damon in New Orleans. I was waitressing tables at a small café when he wandered in. He was the sexiest man I'd ever seen. All he ordered was black coffee. Our connection was instantaneous." She released a smitten sigh and twirled a strand of light brown hair around a finger like some coquettish young girl.

"Damon turned you," Elena said in a deadened voice.

"Mm-hmm, after I asked him to."

The magnitude of this woman's crazy gave her chills. What kind of sicko _asked_ to be turned? "You _wanted_ to be a vampire?"

"If it meant being with Damon forever? Of course. Our love is eternal."

Her captor really was completely bat-shit. Elena prayed her friends would realize she was missing. She prayed that Bonnie would do one of her locater spells and find her.

Charlotte reached over and stroked the stalk of vervain along Elena's cheek. Elena gasped and turned her face away as her skin sizzled and turned an angry red.

"I know what you're thinking," Charlotte said, "but before you get your hopes up, just know that I also have a little witch friend." She raised her voice. "Nandi, would you come here, please?"

An attractive African-American lady poked her head in the door. She had close-cropped hair and appeared to be in her early to mid fifties. "Yes, Charlotte?"

Charlotte waved her hand in the lady's direction. "That's Nandi. She's going to make sure that no one finds you until I want them to. Thank you, Nandi. You can get back to cloaking our location."

As the witch's head vanished from the doorway, Charlotte replaced the single stalk of vervain with a syringe full of green liquid swimming with particulates. Elena instantly recognized the concentrated vervain water. Vampire kryptonite.

"Why're you doing this?" She despised her body for being so weak and useless as she tried to squirm away but couldn't.

Charlotte flicked the syringe twice, tapping out any air bubbles. How considerate. "I warned you to stay away from him."

"You're insane! I didn't do anything!"

"I could smell you on him after the charity ball. The stench of desperation was strong. No doubt you were plying your wiles to try and lure him back into your clutches. Didn't work, did it?"

"That is not what happened!" Elena denied hotly, then asked herself why she was wasting breath arguing with someone who was patently certifiable.

Charlotte pricked the underside of Elena's exposed tricep with the needle. She gave the plunger a small press, and hellfire raced through Elena's veins. Oh god, it _burned._ The agony was such that her muscles seized up and it took a full minute for her brain to come back online.

At least it made sense now why she'd felt so feeble and had had a residual burning in her body when she woke. Charlotte must have dosed her with vervain while she was unconscious to keep her weak.

Charlotte said coldly, "Why can't you just leave him alone? He doesn't want you anymore. He told me everything you did. How you manipulated him. Used him. Strung him along. Hurt him over and over and yet still expected him to be there for you. How could you do that to him?"

"Believe me, you've only heard one side of the story."

"What excuse could you have to possibly justify the way you treated him?" Plump red lips turned down in a frown. "You might have fooled Damon into believing you're some innocent paragon of virtue, but I know what you really are: a manipulative, heartless cocktease."

"How can I be a cocktease if I've slept with him? More than once?"

Charlotte's mouth tightened, but she continued speaking without a hitch. "You're nothing but a selfish little girl who thinks the entire world should revolve around her. It's not Damon who didn't deserve your love. You're the one who didn't deserve his. And now you're going to suffer like he did." She depressed the plunger another fraction of an inch.

Elena spat out through gritted teeth, "You know what's funny? You seem to know all about me, but Damon's been back for, what, weeks now? And he's never once mentioned you. Not to me. Not to anyone. Not once. He hasn't even brought you to his home. Guess your connection doesn't run _that_ deep."

Hazel eyes flashed angrily. Charlotte's thumb jammed the needle plunger all the way down. An explosion of pain punched through Elena with a violence that left her reeling. The vervain was scaldingly hot, and as it flowed through her, it felt like it was leaving behind internal third degree burns.

She writhed and distorted her body, still hoping for the strength to break the ropes. She tried to hold in her pained cries, digging her teeth into her bottom lip until they went clean through and she tasted her own blood. At some point, she flailed so hard she dislocated one of her shoulders with a sickening _pop_.

Charlotte's smirk was gleefully cold-blooded. This woman found her pain amusing. "You don't have to play tough in front of me. Scream all you want."

So Elena did. She screamed as spears of excruciating agony lanced through her. She screamed until the toxin reached her heart and blessed darkness took her under.

* * *

Time passed as a series of agonizing blurs. Every time she regained consciousness, it was only to suffer through more horrible torture as Charlotte would inevitably be there to welcome her back to awareness with new torments.

Sometimes, there were knives. For bleeding her dry, her tormenter explained. Though the woman took far more pleasure in wielding the sharp blades than was strictly necessary.

Always, there was vervain. Either the purple flowers would be applied to Elena's flesh until it bubbled and blistered, or she would be injected with more vervain water which usually served to deliver her right back into unconsciousness.

Up until this point, Elena had experienced the incredible strength, speed, and power that came with her new supernatural body. When Damon left, she'd experienced the crippling emotional lows her heightened senses could give her. Now, for the first time, she experienced the physical agony her body could endure.

As time ground on, her wounds stopped healing. She had no reserves of strength to draw upon, and the loss of blood and a ravenous hunger left her lethargic and depleted. Her wrists were raw from fighting against the ropes that bound her. Her body felt shattered utterly, was nothing but a mass of pain, and despair preyed upon any hope of rescue or escape. She became convinced she was going to die except that her body wouldn't give out and just do it.

Eventually, there came a time when unconsciousness ebbed and she groggily awoke to discover that she was alone in the room. She almost wept with relief. But her reprieve was short lived. The sound of two voices carrying down the hallway informed her she would soon have company.

"I have a surprise for you. I can't wait until you see. You're going to love it!"

The door opened, and Elena turned her head to look. She saw Charlotte enter, leading Damon by the hand. He wore his customary leather jacket and jeans, and she didn't think she'd ever seen a more welcome sight. Damon would rescue her.

"Damon?" Elena rasped with a dry throat and mouth.

He froze in the doorway. "What the hell is this?"

Charlotte grinned triumphantly. "She's for you. We can play with her for a while and then kill her when we get bored. I thought it'd be very therapeutic."

"Damon," Elena whispered weakly, "help me. Please."

Damon's head tilted to the side. His facial expression was indecipherable. "You did this for me?"

Charlotte spun towards him and fluttered her lashes. "Absolutely. I made sure she hurt like you hurt."

He smiled softly. "I'm touched. You shouldn't have."

Elena's heart sank. He couldn't really be this cold towards her, could he? Surely, he didn't condone what Charlotte had done? Surely, he wouldn't let it continue?

"I'd do anything for you, Damon," Charlotte purred.

"I know you would. Come here."

Charlotte stepped closer and extended a hand to caress his cheek.

"But like I said, you really shouldn't have." With astonishing swiftness, Damon snatched her arm in midair and pulled her into his side. One of his hands disappeared into her chest cavity. When it reemerged, he had her bloody heart in his bloody fist. Charlotte's face was a mix of shock and betrayal as she slowly crumpled to the ground.

Damon tossed the heart off to the side and flew to Elena.

"Elena! Jesus, Elena, are you alright?"

She couldn't answer him. Her teeth were chattering too much.

As soon as he'd freed her from the binding ropes, she launched herself into his arms and mashed her face against his leather-clad shoulder, inhaling his scent, finding security in his strong body. He wrapped her in a protective embrace. Hot tears sprang to her eyes as emotion overwhelmed her. She began to sob, heaving, heart wrenching sobs.

All the while, he stroked her hair and murmured soothing words she was too distraught to comprehend. She clung to him until her trembling no longer rattled her bones. Once her hysteria had passed, she looked up into his pale blue eyes. "How long has it been since the charity ball?"

"Three days," he responded gently.

Three days. She'd been expecting him to say three weeks. It felt like she'd been trapped in this hellhole forever. Over his shoulder, she could see Charlotte's dead body laying supine on the ground. Her corpse had turned an ashen grey, and thick, darker grey veins snaked liberally across her once porcelain skin. Elena pressed her face back into his shoulder. "Take me home, Damon. Please."

He nodded and pulled away. With a soft touch, he traced the delicate lines of her face, brushed away the tears streaking down her cheeks, tucked her hair gently behind her ear. Finally, he said, "Let me get you something to drink, and then I'll get you out of here, I promise. Don't move."

She really didn't want him to leave her, but the concerned look on his face confirmed that she was in a bad way. She desperately needed some blood so she could heal. "Okay."

He left quickly, and when he returned, Nandi was struggling feebly in his arms. He threw the witch onto the ground at Elena's feet. "Drink. You need your strength."

She recoiled. "No!" For some reason, she'd assumed he'd bring back blood bags, not a _person_.

Damon rolled his eyes and knelt down next to the woman. He grabbed her by her short hair and yanked her head back, sinking his fangs into her throat. After only a second, he lifted up and licked away the blood trickling down his chin with relish.

"Drink, Elena," he commanded and shoved the struggling woman at her. The witch fell against Elena, whose arms clamped automatically around her. Elena's brain might be clinging to a moral high ground, but her hunger-racked body felt no such compunctions.

And she was so incredibly hungry. Unbelievably hungry, actually. She'd never felt anything as powerful as the craving for blood currently riding her hard. The sight and smell of the witch's blood oozing down an exposed, vulnerable neck was more than Elena could resist in her weakened state. The predator in her took over. Elena's fangs descended, and without another qualm, she bit through skin and muscle, straight to the vein. As the heady, life-giving fluid flowed into her, assuaging her bloodlust, her strength returned and her wounds healed. She felt rejuvenated and super-charged. Practically invincible.

Though it took every ounce of self-control she possessed, she stopped just shy of draining Nandi to the point of death. She forced herself to let go and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. The witch, released from Elena's grasp, started to crawl weakly away.

"Had enough?" Damon asked.

She nodded. Not really, but she didn't want to kill the witch. She raised her arm and prepared to slit her wrist with a fang so Nandi could drink her blood and heal.

Before any of that could happen, Damon stooped down, grabbed the woman's head in his hands, and twisted violently. Elena heard a loud snap, and the witch collapsed with a broken neck.

"Damon! You didn't have to kill her!"

He retorted, "Oh, don't look at me like that. She had it coming from the moment she agreed to help kidnap and torture you. No way she got to live. My only regret is that I only get to kill her once."

He helped Elena up and led her into the hallway. Fishing through a back pocket, Damon leaned up against the wall in a manner reminiscent of a jungle cat lazing in the shade on a sunny day. Feigning sleepiness, but tension coiled throughout, ready to pounce should the opportunity arise.

"Call your brother." He handed her his phone. Jeremy's name was up on the screen so she pressed send. Her brother answered on the third ring. The reception was pretty crappy and as his voice came over the line, it crackled with feedback.

" _Hello?_ " It was said inquisitively as if he didn't recognize the number.

"Hey, Jer, it's me."

" _Elena!_ " His tone changed instantly. " _Where are you? Are you alright?"_

"Yes, I'm fine." She shot Damon a grateful look.

" _What happened?_ "

"Can I tell you about it when I get home? It's a long story."

" _Uh, yeah…yeah, okay. Are you on your way home now? I've been really worried."_

"Yes, Damon's bringing me home, and there's no need to worry. Everything's fine now. I'll see you soon."

" _Okay, bye, Elena."_

"Bye."

As she hung up, a thought niggled its way into her brain. Jeremy hadn't known who was calling because Damon had acquired a new phone and thus a new number when he left a year ago. And yet he still had Jeremy's number in his new phone. Who else's number had he programmed into his contacts?

With lightning-fast fingers, she found his contacts list and typed 'E' into the search bar. There was her name. Right on top. He'd put her into his new phone. What did that even mean?

Just then, he snatched his phone away and gave her a suspicious look before shoving it in his back pocket. "Alright, let's get you out of here. Hey, whoa, Elena!"

Having grown pale and light-headed, she stumbled into him. He had to catch her to prevent her from falling. Curiously, with a slight slur to her words, she asked, "Can vampires faint?"

"You're in shock. Come on, upsy-daisy." He scooped her up, cradling her in his arms. Her head lolled weakly. She found the cocooning heat of his body and the loud, steady pounding of his heart to be immensely comforting.

"Thank you for saving me. I wasn't sure if you would."

He scoffed and looked down at her with a furrowed brow. "Seriously? You can't actually believe I'd want anything bad to happen to you."

"Something bad happened to me when you left me."

His mouth flattened into a thin line and he didn't respond. He carried her outside through what was presumably the front door and towards the spot where his car awaited, gravel crunching under his boots. She caught sight of a dilapidated farm house, mostly obscured by overgrown ivy and other vegetation. She shuddered and looked away, fervently hoping she never saw it again.

When they arrived at the Camaro, he gingerly settled her into the passenger seat. He disappeared for a moment, and she heard the trunk open and close. Reappearing a second later, he gently dropped a large white T-shirt and pair of navy sweatpants on her lap. While he returned to the trunk, giving her some privacy, she quickly changed. She was so grateful to be out of that grimy, bloody dress that she almost started weeping again. It felt like the height of luxury to be in new, clean clothes. The shirt was rather big on her, but the sweatpants were her size and fit surprisingly well.

When she had finished dressing and was reseated, Damon came back and tucked a soft, white blanket around her legs. He opened a water bottle and dampened a small hand towel which he then tenderly administered to her face and neck, wiping away the worst of the dirt and blood.

With a smile, she said, "You keep a damsel in distress rescue kit in your car?"

He cracked a smile in return, and it was so sexy her pulse leaped and set her blood to singing. He teased, "I knew if I spent any time around you, I'd wind up needing it eventually."

She gave him a look. "Ha. Ha. Jerk. It's not my fault your girlfriend was a sadistic lunatic. You sure can pick 'em. Katherine, Charlotte. A freakishly high percentage of your exes are psychotic bitches."

She burst into gales of hilarity, laughing far more hysterically than her comment warranted. After a moment, her laughter transformed into tears. At his alarmed look, she said, "I'm fine, I'm fine," but her voice was thin and wavering and hardly reassuring.

"Hey, no, you're not." He cupped her cheeks and turned her face towards him.

"I'm fine," she whispered again, summoning a smile through the tears.

He crushed her against him, and she rested her head on his shoulder. He whispered fiercely into her hair, "I had no idea she'd go after you. You know that, right, Elena? If I'd thought for even a second that she'd hurt you, I'd have ended her a long time ago."

"I know. I do." She breathed him in deeply, dark spices and rich leather. "You must have said a lot of awful things about me to make her hate me so much."

He laughed hollowly. "Not _a lot_ a lot. And I didn't mean most of it."

 _But you meant some of it,_ she thought sadly. "Yeah, she must have had a few screws loose anyway before you turned her. She _wanted_ to be a vampire."

"So did I when I thought it meant I'd get to be with Katherine forever. Not all of us are as annoyingly good as you."

She drew back and studied his face for a long moment, mentally tracing the familiar sharp angles and hard lines. Thoughtfully, she chewed on her bottom lip, and his piercing blue gaze fixed on her mouth. She asked, "Did you love her?"

Glancing back up, he shot her an _are you insane_ look. "No more than Katherine loved me." He reached across her lap and buckled her seatbelt in place. "She meant nothing. She was just a distraction that I was using to…. She was just a distraction."

She looked at him shyly through long, shiny lashes. "You put my number in your new phone. Why?"

The change in topic seemed to unsettle him. He hesitated before screwing the cap back on the water bottle. "I don't know."

Tossing the water bottle and rag into the back seat, he went around to his side and got in. As they pulled away from the abandoned house in which Elena'd just spent three nightmarish days, her gaze focused on the pale hand resting atop the gear shift. It was a beautifully masculine hand, strong and capable, and she reached over and laid her hand on top of it, because there was just some basic part of her that needed to touch him. He turned his palm up and twined his fingers with hers, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. A thrill raced up her arm. He favored her with a small, affectionate smile. The same way he used to smile at her before he left. When he still loved her.

He turned his eyes back to the road.

As they drove, she found herself wishing the interior of his car didn't smell quite so much like him. His darkly seductive scent spicing the air and the scintillating warmth of his hand were a potent combination, giving her an intense awareness of his wicked sensuality. Her body responded to that awareness, nipples hardening, low belly tightening, making it difficult to concentrate.

In order to divert her thoughts, which were entirely inappropriate under the circumstances, she blurted the question uppermost in her mind. "Why did you come back to Mystic Falls?"

His smile evaporated, and he shook his hand loose from hers. His gaze darted about like he was seeking an avenue of escape, but since he was trapped in a moving vehicle with her, he found none. On a sigh, he replied, "Maybe I just wanted to be able to come home. This _is_ my home and was, long before you. Some girl shouldn't stop me from being where I want to be. And maybe I wanted to prove to myself that I _could_ come home, that I'd been gone long enough to resist sliding back into," he glared sideways at her, "bad habits."

Some girl. She was just some girl to him now. And a bad habit on top of that. "And did you prove that to yourself?"

He snorted. "What do you think?"

She dropped her gaze to where her clasped hands rested above the blanket he'd provided for her. "I missed you so much."

"You looked me dead in the eye and told me point-blank you didn't forgive me and I'd never have a chance with you."

"Because I was hurt! I felt deceived and so stupid! But I just needed some time. Time you weren't willing to give me. Instead, you just left. You didn't even say good-bye."

His eyes narrowed to slivers. "Forgive me if I was under the impression that you wouldn't be particularly receptive to a tender farewell."

"Just because I was angry did not mean that I wanted to live my life without you in it. Damon, you were one of my best friends."

"Your friend," he sneered. "Lucky me."

"Yes, Damon, my friend. After everything we'd been through - "

"Everything we'd been through, huh? I assume you're referring to when we were trying to save my brother, the epic love you wouldn't give up on? I'm not an idiot, Elena. I'm perfectly aware that if Stefan hadn't gone off the rails and turned into a ripper douche, you wouldn't have given me the time of day."

She stared at him unflinchingly. "You can't blame me for Stefan. It's not my fault I didn't remember meeting you first. In fact, it's yours."

"And that's the biggest bitch of it all." His anger deflated, was replaced by bitterness. "The irony kills me every time."

"Yeah, you screwed up badly. You should have told me that we slept together. That I met you first. But I understand and I forgive you. I definitely made some huge mistakes on my end, too. I hope that you can forgive me." She took a deep breath and chose her following words with care. "I know you think I was just using you or playing games, but that's not true. There was stuff I couldn't admit to myself yet because I was afraid. And I guess I cared too much what everyone else thought. No one would understand. I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you. It was always supposed to be Stefan. He's good and kind and the safe choice."

Damon white-knuckled the steering wheel. "As much fun as it is listening to you enumerate the reasons why my baby bro should be nominated for sainthood, are you going to make a point any time soon?"

"All I'm saying is that I don't want safe. I don't care what anyone thinks and I'm not afraid anymore. I know what I really want. _Who_ I really want." When she spoke next, her voice was barely loud enough to qualify as a whisper. "You."

For a fleeting moment, he looked utterly disarmed by her admission. The hostility in his eyes relented and his stony demeanor yielded and abated. But only for a moment. Then his features resumed their hardness. He clenched his jaw so tightly she heard his teeth grind together. His nostrils flared on a forceful exhale. Jerking the wheel hard to the right, he slammed on the brakes and skidded to a halt on the side of the road. She had to brace her palms on the dashboard to keep from getting slung around.

"Damon!" she shrieked.

"Get out." His words snapped with the force of whiplash.

"What? You're kicking me out? But we're in the middle of nowhere." She didn't even have any shoes on.

"Get out of the goddamn car, Elena."

She stared at him in mortified disbelief. Of all the reactions she'd imagined when she confessed her feelings, this wasn't one of them. Shoving the blanket off her lap, she yanked on the door handle and jumped out. She geared up to flee at top speed and took a step only to collide with a solid wall of lean muscle and black leather. Damon had darted around the car and cut her off, and the close contact was electric. He pushed her back, pinning her up against the car door.

"What the - " she began.

He shut her up with a bruising, exhilarating kiss. Adrenaline and desire instantly flooded her. Guess he wasn't kicking her out. Nope, this was much better.

His hands went to her waist, and he broke the kiss momentarily in order to tug her sweatpants down past her knees. Then he devouring her mouth again while hastily unfastening his jeans.

Abruptly, he seemed to realize that he was about to take her like an animal. He paused, his body thrumming with the effort it took to rein in his desire, to think clearly. "I need this, baby girl," he panted brokenly, "I need to have you so fucking badly. I can't wait."

She threw her arms around his neck and nodded helplessly. "Yes."

Clenching her hips, he tilted her pelvis at the right angle and surged up into her hard and fast, devoid of any preliminaries, forcing her to stretch and accept him. She gasped. Though his rough manhandling was a huge turn on, she still wasn't quite prepared for the – _extent_ of his invasion. It was almost too much. She was too full. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't move or think.

Too impatient to wait for her to acclimate, he began to thrust desperately, a grinding, relentless cadence. Every stroke was fierce with a frantic edge, and she realized that the horrors of the day had spurred him into this frenzy of unrestrained lust. This primal, raw sex was his reaction to the panic and guilt he'd felt when he discovered her in danger. He needed to lose himself in her as reassurance that she was alright, that she was safe.

And maybe, hopefully he'd also been affected by what she'd said to him in the car?

Her fingers speared through the hair at his nape. As he rained a smattering of swift kisses down her slender, tan neck and onto her collar bone, she murmured, "It's okay. It's okay, Damon. I'm okay. We're together, and everything's okay."

Something she said must have pierced his overwrought condition because his hands relaxed their death grip on her waist and his brutal passion slackened. His thrusts, still hard and powerful, slowed and achieved an even deeper penetration than before. This time she was ready.

She moaned, every inch of her gloriously alive. His stiff fucking was exactly what she needed. Every time he plunged into her, she felt whole. Complete. Like they were one instead of two.

Her impending climax built rapidly to an explosive level. He seized the curves of her ass, and with splayed fingers raised her up higher so that the balls of her feet barely scraped the ground. That angle finished her off and brought her to a screaming orgasm. Her nails raked across his scalp and her toes curled. Her body unraveled as she was consumed by the dazzling brightness exploding through her.

He didn't last any longer than she did. While she quaked and convulsed around him, his entire frame shook violently, then went rigid. He growled, a guttural rumble that originated low in his chest, and a rush of searing heat filled her.

For several delicious minutes afterwards, he remained buried inside her while they recovered from their urgent, frenzied coupling. Eyes still inflamed by passion, he massaged her ass with clever fingers, and his mouth whispered like butterfly wings along the pulsing vein in her throat. Every now and then she felt the brief sting of his fangs which was immediately followed by the soothing balm of his tongue.

Clinging to him in silence, she resolved that this time she wasn't going to talk first and ruin the moment. While she waited for him to say something, she continued to run her fingers through his adorably disheveled silky black hair.

"Three days." His mouth traveled up to her delicately shaped ear where he pressed a kiss against the sensitive skin just beneath it. "Three days and no one knew where you were." His teeth nipped her earlobe. "Everyone was worried, but not me. I figured you took off because of what I'd said to you in the cemetery. And do you know what I thought? Good, I'm glad she's gone." Firm, pink lips drifted down her jaw, feather-light. "Now I won't have to pretend that I don't crave her so badly every bone in my body aches. I won't have to remind myself constantly that I don't need or want her forgiveness. I won't have to think of new ways to hurt her so she'll stay away from me." As the tiniest spark of hope flared to life inside her, he leaned his forehead against hers. "So I didn't help them search for you or anything. God, Elena, if something had happened to you…." He cleared his throat. "I mean, you know, more than what did happen, I'd lose my fucking mind. If I hadn't found you…."

"But you did. You saved me." She laid her cheek on his smooth one, heart buoyed by sweet, hopeful feelings. He wasn't as over her as he'd made it seem that night at the charity ball.

He leaned away, guilt and self-loathing warring for supremacy in the icy blue depths of his eyes. "You were only in danger because of me. Everything that happened to you is my fault."

"So, make it up to me. Let's start fresh. Have dinner with me? Or whatever. Something simple. No pressure. Just you and me."

His brow creased and he remained silent for a moment. Then, he rocked his hips, pushing his still semi-erect length deeper into her tight flesh. "This is the only thing we're any good at."

"That's not true."

"Right, we're also good at being _friends_." A shadow descended over his striking features. He shook his head. "Elena, I can't." His right hand flew up between them and slid beneath his leather jacket. He rubbed it over his left pec as though guarding his heart. She wondered if he was even conscious of the gesture. "I just … I can't."

"You mean you won't."

He shrugged lightly, his infuriating way of saying, _call it what you will_. His hand dropped away from his chest.

"So you'll have sex with me," she remarked dully, "but you won't go on a date with me."

A muscle above one prominent cheek bone jumped. He remained silent.

After trying to swallow around a throat that was too tight and not really succeeding, she inquired, "Do you really not want to be with me anymore?"

He offered her a sad smile that didn't last for more than a second or two. "It doesn't matter what I want. I'm leaving. Not today or tomorrow. But very soon."

She closed her eyes. Of course he was. Nothing made any difference. Not what she'd said to him, not their explosive chemistry and mind-blowing sex. He couldn't – _wouldn't_ move past what had happened between them. Just like that, her hope was extinguished for good. The disappointment spreading through her was gut-wrenching in its intensity. She felt like her insides were tearing apart.

How many times was she going to keep doing this to herself? He possessed the power to hurt her so much more deeply than any of the tortures devised by Charlotte, and yet she kept coming back for more. Pathetic.

A solitary tear fell from the corner of her eye. She felt his thumb brush it away.

"Don't cry," he implored. "I'm not worth a single one of your tears."

Angrily, her hands slid out of his hair down to his shoulders, and she shoved him away. She wasn't strong enough to actually force him to move if he didn't want to, but fortunately, he ceded ground, granting her the space she needed. She bent to pull up the sweatpants tangled around her ankles. "I wish you'd never come back. Take me home."

"Elena…."

She opened the car door and slid into the seat. "Just take me home, Damon," she demanded and slammed the door shut.

Through the windshield, she watched him slowly walk around the front of the Camaro. He got in the driver's side and started the engine. She sensed his gaze on her, but she stared resolutely through the passenger window, refusing to look at him, temple pressed to the cool glass. His mouth opened, and he seemed about to speak, but then he didn't. With a heavy exhalation, he punched the gas. They drove off into the night.


	8. Chapter 8

"You remember Megan, right? She lives in the dorm room next to mine and Bonnie's? She's deejaying at this club, and I promised I'd go and support her. You have to come, too!" Caroline flashed her most endearing smile.

They were in living room of the Salvatore mansion sitting side by side on one of the red couches. Caroline's blonde hair was loose and wavy, and she looked immaculate in jeans anda flouncy white top that left her arms bare.

Elena wrinkled her nose. "I don't know, Caroline. A club?"

"Yes, a club with people and dancing and fun. Bonnie's already agreed she'll go, and so have Matt and Jeremy. Please?"

"If it's that important to you," Elena conceded with a resigned smile. She supposed going out with her friends might help her take her mind off things.

"It is." Caroline turned to Stefan who stood on the other side of the room with arms crossed and a very serious expression. "You're coming, too. Bonnie has Jeremy, and I've already claimed Matt as my friend-date, which means you have to go with Elena, so she's not the odd one out."

"Uh…." Stefan's gaze darted to Elena with a deer-caught-in-Caroline-Forbes'-headlights look.

"Just as friends, of course," Caroline assured him.

Elena narrowed her eyes. This had better not be another sneaky attempt on her friend's part to reunite her and Stefan. She'd endured dozens of those over the last year.

Stefan grimaced. "Yeah, it's just, you know, all those people, and the dancing…. Have I ever mentioned that I hate dancing?"

"Ugh, Stefan, for one night, you're going to stop being such a stick-in-the-mud, and just come out with us and have some fun!"

As Caroline was speaking, Damon entered the room. With a smirk, he sauntered up behind his brother and clapped his hands on Stefan's shoulders hard enough to make him wince. "Fun is a foreign concept to my baby bro, but don't worry, I'll see to it personally that he has a good time."

"This won't end well," Stefan commented dryly.

"Relax, Stef, we'll have a blast."

"You are emphatically not invited," Caroline objected quickly.

Damon's smirk widened into a fully amused grin. "I'd love to see you try and stop me, Blondie."

"Stefan?" Caroline appealed, hoping he'd successfully take control of Damon and prevent him from going.

"Nope, sorry, if I'm being forced to go to a dance club, I need to use my remaining time wisely. I'm gonna go get drunk." Stefan ducked out from under his brother's grip.

"No, but it's not until tomorrow," Caroline protested.

"Exactly. There's not much time left." Stefan disappeared out of the living room.

"Elena?" she tried next.

Elena shrugged. "He's right, it's not like we can stop him."

Did she want him to go? She didn't know. On one level, she did – but on another level, she knew she shouldn't. So she was left with a churning mess of emotions she was having trouble sorting through.

Caroline crossed her arms huffily and made a sour face at Damon. "Fine, but you're not riding with us."

"Gee, I'll manage somehow." He managed to inject a wealth of contempt and sarcasm into those four words.

Though Elena was busy looking anywhere but at Damon, she was still acutely aware that he was staring at her even though he was trying to seem like he wasn't. He picked up an empty crystal glass like he intended to pour himself a drink but ended up just twirling it idly in his hand.

Meanwhile, Caroline was impaling Damon with a Medusa-worthy glare. It was a miracle he hadn't turned to stone yet. When she let out an exasperated noise, he finally caught on that the blonde vampire was shooting him a dirty look.

He snarled irritatedly, "What? Why are you acting like I'm the one who's imposing? This is my house."

"You're right." Caroline stood up and said imperiously, "Let's go, Elena."

Elena rose and began to follow her friend out the front door when the sound of her name softly spoken reached her ears.

She froze and debated what to do. Turn around or keep walking? She craned her neck to peer back over her shoulder.

With chin tucked, he gazed over at her through thick black lashes. Like a complete sucker, she softened under the onslaught of those puppy dog eyes and swiveled her upper body in his direction.

He set the empty glass down and leaned forward, propping himself on the back of the nearest couch. "I just wanted to know how're you doing after … everything?"

Before she responded, she completed the turn so that she was fully facing him. She loathed the awkwardness and strain that filled the space between them. Once they had been so close, and now she could hardly talk to him at all. He might as well already be gone.

This was not how she'd imagined things going at all. She'd thought that if she got the chance to tell him how she truly felt, if he _knew_ , that it would change everything. But it didn't change anything.

 _When it's real, you can't walk away._

Well, he had been able to walk away – and he was about to do so yet again. He knew that she loved him, and it wasn't enough to make him stay. Which left her with no choice but to find a way to move on. That's what he wanted, so she'd simply have to learn how to want it, too.

"Okay," she said. "Mostly, I'm doing okay."

"Good," he responded with the barest of nods. "If there's anything you need, anything I can - "

"Elena, come on!" Caroline called.

She smiled thinly at Damon and turned to leave. "Thanks, I'm good."

"Elena?"

She glanced behind her again.

"I want you to know that I …." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing up and down.

"That you what?" she asked impatiently.

A small furrow appeared between dark brows. "That I'm really glad you're okay."

Somehow, she doubted that was what he'd originally intended to say. Oh, well. She didn't have the heart or energy to decode his cryptic speech. "Bye, Damon."

She hurried after her friend.

* * *

"Bonnie just texted and said she'll be here in five. Are you almost ready?" Caroline inquired. Her voice filtered through the bathroom door. Elena mumbled a "Yeah" as she put the finishing touches on her hair and makeup. Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she walked into her bedroom where Caroline sat on the bed playing with her phone.

Spreading her arms, she twirled in a circle. "What do you think?"

Caroline glanced up from her phone screen. Her eyebrows skyrocketed up her forehead. "Uh, wow. Okay."

Elena frowned apprehensively. "What?"

"You look …."

"I look what?"

"Like Katherine. You look like Katherine."

Dismayed, Elena scooted over and studied her appearance in the mirror above her dresser. Katherine, really? She thought she looked sexy, confident, seductive. Okay, maybe she'd used a heavier hand than usual when applying her makeup, and she supposed the waves she'd added to her normally perfectly straight hair vaguely resembled Katherine's loose curls. And she conceded that perhaps she'd donned an outfit Katherine might wear: a revealing, slinky black top with black lacy straps and trimming, skin tight black jeans, and leather boots with three inch heels. A large, round ruby pendant and dangly ruby earrings completed the look.

Elena puffed air noisily out one side of her mouth. She was no expert, but it was probably not a good sign that she was unconsciously channeling her evil doppelganger.

"Sit," Caroline directed, coming up behind her. Elena obeyed, pulling up a chair while her friend went to work. First, Caroline swept the top layer of Elena's hair back and clipped it in place, softening her look.

Next, Caroline unclasped the ruby necklace and replaced it with a different one selected from the heart-shaped jewelry box on Elena's dresser. The new necklace was a sterling silver butterfly suspended on a silver chain. The butterfly's wings were dotted with several small aquamarines, the same shade of blue as Damon's eyes. Her ruby earrings were switched out for tiny silver hoops.

As a final touch, Caroline handed Elena a tissue and a tube of lipstick from her own purse with the words, "Here, this one's less man-eater red and more sweetheart pink."

After she'd wiped off the old and applied the new lipstick color, Elena gazed at her reflection, incredibly pleased with Caroline's tweaking.

"This 'look'," Caroline made air quotes above Elena's head in the mirror, "wouldn't have anything to do with a certain black-haired, black-hearted Salvatore who managed to weasel his way into going tonight, would it?"

"His heart's not black," Elena said defensively, then shook her head. Why was she defending him? "And no, of course not. This stuff was just in my closet, and if they're in my closet, then I might as well wear them, or what's the point of even having them? They'll just end up going to waste."

"Mm-hmm." Caroline looked less than convinced.

Right then, a horn honked outside in the driveway. Bonnie's timely arrival saved Elena from having to think of a response. She jumped up and smiled brightly at Caroline. "Oh, look! It's time to go."

Caroline blocked her path when she tried to go downstairs. "You're still planning to move on, right?"

"Right," Elena assured her.

"Then, I don't know if dressing up like a sex kitten who also resembles the woman Damon spent a century and a half obsessing over is the best strategy."

Elena's lips twitched. "Sex kitten?"

Caroline flapped her arms. "You know what I'm trying to say."

"I do, and I appreciate the concern. You're a wonderful friend. Let's go, Bonnie's waiting." Elena grabbed Caroline's hand when she looked like she wanted to balk and dragged her downstairs and out the front door.

* * *

The club was only a few miles off Whitmore campus, and from the outside, it looked like an old steel and concrete warehouse. Inside, techno music hammered the ears and the pungent scents of too much humanity assaulted the nostrils. Strobe lights flashed overhead as Elena jostled her way towards the bar lining the back wall. Her friends were sitting at a table closer to the dance floor waiting for her to bring back drinks.

Surprise, surprise, Damon had already claimed a spot at the bar. He wasn't sitting but rested his back against it, one elbow leaning on the counter. He looked good enough to eat in form-fitting jeans and a royal blue button-down shirt that perfectly accentuated his beautiful eyes. Though he wasn't technically smiling or frowning, his demeanor was cold enough to deter anyone from trying to interact with him. Like he was contemplating whom to kill. Not to eat. Just for shits and giggles.

Elena slipped through a last cluster of college-age girls and eased onto an empty stool. She could have sat at any stretch of the bar to get service, but she wound up – coincidentally, of course – right next to Damon.

She ordered, and while she waited, she sensed his lingering appraisal. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and jutted out her chin. "So, you wanted to come here tonight, but you're too cool to sit with us?"

He regarded her blandly. "Something like that."

"Aren't you supposed to be helping Stefan have such a great time?"

"I'm working on it."

"All the way over here? You don't look like you're having the slightest bit of fun."

"No?"

"No. In fact, why did you even want to come? It's weird that you're here."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Well, for one, I doubt they carry your type of alcohol here."

He patted his pocket smugly. "Brought my own."

"And, two, you don't like people."

"I like … some people."

She raised her eyebrows in challenge, almost but not quite repressing her smile.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I like Stefan – sometimes."

It was foolish of her to ask, he'd only say something mean or outrageous, but she couldn't resist. "And me?"

"You?" He feigned surprise as though he'd forgotten about her. He pretended to take a moment to consider when in fact he simply used the time to blatantly check her out. Eyelids descended over pale blue eyes. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth for a brief second in a way that both irked and turned her on big time. "I like when you're naked underneath me and screaming my name."

Color rose in her cheeks. She opened her mouth. No sound came out. Great, now her brain was too busy picturing the two of them going at it like sex fiends to make words happen.

Seconds ticked by. He inquired with an air of absolute innocence, "Don't you?" Tilting his head in her direction, he whispered, "If you say no, I'll know you're lying."

Her spine stiffened in the face of his sexual arrogance. No way was she going to give his ego the satisfaction of agreeing. Even if he was right.

The bartender returned with her order. As Elena gathered the drinks up, she said primly, "Guess I don't need to say anything since you're already so sure of my answer."

As she slid down from the barstool, her heel caught in the bottom rung, and to her complete and utter humiliation, she teetered and began to fall, drinks sloshing in her arms.

Until strong hands caught and steadied her and kept her from totally embarrassing herself.

Blue eyes gleamed. "Careful, you don't want to waste all that alcohol."

"Thanks." She laughed once softly. "I thought being a vampire was supposed to make you graceful and coordinated."

She pulled away and he released her. Skin burning where he had touched her, she made it successfully back to her friends without any further mishaps.

After she set the drinks down on the table, she allowed herself one more glance back just to see if he was watching her.

He was. Like magnets, their gazes met and held. His eyes were hooded and full of searing heat as if he were contemplating all the dirty things he wanted to do to her. Or maybe that was just what she was thinking about.

Flustered, she whipped back around. Her friends were staring.

"What?" She passed out the drinks. They kept staring. "What?" she repeated more loudly.

Caroline accepted hers and stirred the fruity concoction with the long red straw provided. "I thought we agreed you were moving on."

"I am."

"Lingering stares are not moving on."

"What are you talking about? There was no lingering."

"There was definite lingering," Bonnie said.

Caroline quickly pointed out, "Look, we're not judging - "

Elena gave her a dubiouslook.

"Okay, maybe we're judging a little, but the point is we're your friends, and we don't want to see you get hurt."

"And I appreciate that. I won't."

Bonnie threw out casually, "You know, tons of guys have been checking you out since we got here."

"Really?" Elena tried to sound interested, but the truth was she didn't want tons of other guys. She wanted Damon.

 _No_ , she chided herself, _bad. And you know what else is bad? Looking at him again. It doesn't matter if he's still watching._

But she knew he was. She could feel the weight of his stare the same way a mouse felt a cat breathing down the back of its neck. It took all her willpower to defy the impulse to turn and seek him out again with her eyes.

Jeremy cleared his throat and put his arm around Bonnie, pulling her into his side. "Hey, uh, would it be cool if we talked about something other than my sister's love life?"

An extremely grateful Elena raised her glass. "I'll drink to that."

Everyone laughed and joined in the toast.

Thankfully, the ensuing conversation veered into less personal, simpler topics. For the most part, Elena zoned out, people-watching and trying not to think about Damon. At one point while Bonnie was talking to Matt, Jeremy laid a soft kiss on her friend's temple. Bonnie kept right on with her side of the conversation, but her hand slide over to cover his. Elena noticed and was happy that her brother and her best friend had found happiness together but she also envied them their casual intimacy, their security in each other. She wanted that with Damon.

She was half-way through her third seven-and-seven when she noticed some sleaze ball in a collared shirt and khaki shorts surreptitiously drop something into a red-headed girl's cup. No doubt he thought he was pretty slick. As he threaded his arm through the red-head's and began to lead her away from the safety of the crowd, Elena stood. She smiled at her friends. "Be right back. Have to go take care of something."

She tracked the sleazy guy into a dimly-lit corner of the warehouse that was out of the way and not very populated. Elena marched up to the red-headed girl and confiscated her drink. "I'll take that."

"Hey!" the guy exclaimed indignantly.

Ignoring him, she compelled the girl to return to her friends and have them take her home. Then she turned back to Sleaze ball with a huge, fake smile. This asshole had just earned himself a place on tonight's menu. "Hi, I'm Elena."

Once he got a better look at her, he stopped being pissed and grinned enthusiastically at his seemingly good fortune. "Oh, okay, I'm - "

"A scumbag," she finished for him and pounced. Her fangs slid into his throat as easily as butter, and blood flowed out of him and into her. Aside from the witch Nandi, she'd never fed directly from a human before. It was glorious. Infinitely superior to blood bags heated up in a microwave.

He struggled, pleaded with her to stop. She did, but only long enough to compel him to stop talking and quit resisting. Then, she was back at his neck, eyes closed in ecstasy, slurping him down like her own personal juice box. His fear scented the air, and she liked that. Small mewling sounds leaked from his mouth . She liked that, too.

When she heard his heart begin to slow, she instinctively knew it was time to stop or he'd wind up drained to the point of death. Swallowing a final gulp of blood, she disengaged, opening her eyes. The first thing she saw was Damon who was watching her avidly several yards away. Strobing lights behind him alternated with shadows, light and darkness taking turns caressing his features. He looked cruel. Menacing. So gorgeous it hurt.

His gaze raked over her, a brutal, thorough assessment. Like he was starving and she was the only thing to eat in sight. For days.

Shivers danced over every available inch of her skin while warning bells clamored in her brain, triggered by impending danger. She ignored them, and the part of her that was excited by danger curved her lips upward in a _come-hither_ smile, revealing blood-stained fangs.

His eyes flared, glowed an otherworldly blue in the darkness. He started to stalk towards her with the tense, measured pace of a pure predator. Raw sex, hot and wild and wicked, oozed from his pores. He was on the hunt, and she realized with a bone-deep certainty that he was going to catch her and that she was going to let him. Her body prickled in anticipation, heart fluttering like a wild thing trapped in her chest.

When he was almost to her, Caroline suddenly popped out and brushed past him. He treated the back of her head to a murderous glare. She planted her hands on her hips and exclaimed, "Elena! Have you lost your mind? You're standing out in the open where anyone could see you! Are you trying to get caught?"

With eyes locked on Elena, Damon drawled, "Back off, Judgy, she's just having fun."

"I don't remember asking you. And you know what's not fun? People realizing that vampires exist."

Elena bit her lip and tasted Sleaze ball's blood. "You're right, I'm sorry, Caroline. It's just I saw him roofy some girl's drink, and I couldn't let him get away with it."

"I'm not saying he doesn't deserve it, just that maybe you could feed somewhere a little more private next time?"

Elena nodded. "I promise."

When Caroline didn't move, Damon made a dismissive hand gesture. "Shoo."

Caroline crossed her arms and pursed her lips. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

"It's okay, I've got this under control," Elena assured her friend.

Damon turned just his face toward Caroline and reiterated with a thunderous look, "Get lost."

The blonde vampire rolled her eyes so hard Elena feared she'd hurt herself, then strolled away with a disapproving air.

Damon grabbed Sleaze ball by the collar and said in a persuasive tone, "Forget everything that just happened. Scram."

"Wait!" Elena snagged the guy's arm and jerked him back towards her, dilating her pupils and capturing his gaze. "From now on, you'll never be anything but completely respectful to women. To _everyone_. The issue of consent is now very important to you since you'll need it for everything you do. You can't even go to the bathroom without asking permission first. Got it?"

"Got it," Sleazeball mumbled and lurched away.

Damon grinned. "Aren't you adorable, using your evil vampire powers for good."

Without Sleazeball between them acting as a buffer, his proximity was disconcerting. She smiled feebly and managed a whole step backwards when he stopped her. "Hold on, you've got something … right … there."

His thumb swiped gently at a spot of blood staining the corner of her mouth. Lingered. He stuck the tip of his thumb between his lips and sucked. Her knees went weak as lust slithered through her. The glint in his eye betrayed that he was certainly aware of the effect he was having on her.

As a cover, she blurted out, "Care's right. I shouldn't have done that. I mean, I should have rescued that girl, but I shouldn't have fed so openly. It was reckless."

"I wouldn't worry about it. You were just having fun. And if you weren't always hanging around Mopey and Bossy, you'd have learned the right way to have fun."

 _Fun_. She wanted to have fun. With blood, _life_ , humming through her veins, she felt amazing. Young and fearless and beautiful. Like anything was possible. She'd never be able to explore the darker aspects of being a vampire around Stefan, because he couldn't handle the temptation without losing control, and, well, Caroline could be a little uptight.

But Damon was a whole different story. With him, she could have fun and revel in her new nature. She'd been so sad lately, and suddenly, conveniently, it didn't matter that he was at the root of much of that sadness. Her sense of self-preservation, her need to keep him at a distance suffered a fatal wound and fragmented into a million irretrievable pieces.

She swayed closer and looked him dead in the eye. "Will you show me?"

Completely deadpan, he replied, "Since you asked so nicely." His hands dropped and he mimed undoing his zipper.

Unbelievable. He was seriously trying to get a rise out of her.

"Very funny. Keep it in your pants, Romeo," she scolded even as her gaze followed his hands down. She licked her lips. "You are joking, right?"

His gaze narrowed. "Do you want me to not be?"

She gave him a faux-exasperated look. "No, I want you to show me the right way to have fun."

A sultry half-smile appeared on his oh-so-kissable lips. "Okay." He stepped back and gallantly extended a hand, palm up. "Miss Gilbert, would you like to dance?"

Her wits were severely addled if she was even _thinking_ about accepting his offer.

She placed her hand in his and smiled sweetly. "I would love to."

Yup, definitely severely addled.

He drew her out through the frenzied movements of the crowd until they were in middle of the dance floor. Like a true gentleman, he let her choose their prey by placing his hands on her shoulders and spinning her in a circle so she could view all her options.

"Lady's choice," he murmured in her ear.

The selection was overwhelming; there were so many people.

He laughed at her bewildered expression. "If it's that difficult to choose, we can have them all."

So she chose one. Then another. Too many to keep track of. He taught her to compel them into complacency and to dance with them in areas where it was dim and crowded and the shadowy multitude was too fogged out by alcohol and drugs to notice anything. If anyone did bother to look their way, she learned to make it appear like an overly amorous encounter, just a couple of people who got carried away making out. Sometimes, she and Damon would take turns; sometimes they'd feed simultaneously. Each time they finished with a victim, she'd heal them and send them on their way, compelled to forget everything.

Eventually, they sated their bloodlust, and when he drew her into a sexy, gyrating dance, all sinuous, panther-like grace, she went eagerly, dark eyes fever-bright. They danced together, moving in fluid harmony, high on fresh blood, hearts pounding in time to the deep, hypnotic bass.

Blood stood out starkly on his pale face, dripping thick and scarlet down his chin, spattering the collar of his blue shirt. She probably ought to be repulsed, but she wasn't. Even covered in blood, he was drop-dead sexy with an irresistible allure. She didn't need to see anyone else in the club to know for a fact that he was the sexiest person there. And he looked like he thought the same thing about her.

She reached out and swiped a finger through the blood on his chin. Flinging her head back with joyous abandon, she stuck her finger in her mouth. Laughter bubbled out of her and she realized something. In this moment, she was happy. Truly happy.

In one sweeping move, he twirled her then pulled her into him, her back flush against his chest. "Having fun yet?" he whispered, breath hot on her ear.

She smiled over her shoulder at him. "I am."

Lust was a tangible force between them, thick enough to sink her fangs into. She couldn't put into words what came over her except that she had to kiss him. It was all she could think about. So she did. She spun in his arms and found his lips unerringly.

She felt his surprise in the way his muscles tensed. He recovered with admirable alacrity and kissed her back, hands settling on her lower back with reverent tenderness, urging her closer. She melted against him like a snowflake exposed to the sun and her arms twined around his neck.

The kiss began as a gentle caress, warm, soft lips brushing together like overlapping feathers on an angel's wing. A thrill zinged through her clear down to her toes, electrifying every atom in her body.

People continued to sway around them, but they stopped dancing and stood still. Time stopped. The music faded away. All that mattered was the velvet heat of his mouth, the unyielding hardness of his body, and the flood of desire turning her insides to molten honey.

He sucked her lush bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled. Then, he switched to the top one and gave it the same delectable treatment. The tip of his tongue coaxingly swept along the seam of her lips, teasing, testing, and her mouth parted eagerly, welcoming him in. Their tongues touched, entwined, circled. He tasted tart and sweet, like blood and freedom.

As the kiss progressed and deepened, it grew hot and demanding. One of Damon's hands rose to clasp the back of her head and tangle in her hair. His tongue thrust deep, exploring, pleasuring, imitating what they both longed to do horizontally in a bed.

Her mouth had never been so thoroughly, wonderfully ravished.

When they finally drew apart, she felt flushed and tingly. Desire gnawed at her insides like an insistent, hungry wolf. She stared up into his mesmerizing blue eyes and couldn't look away. With a roll of his hips, he rubbed the thick ridge of his hard-on between the vee of her thighs, finding the spot where she ached the most.

"Let's get out of here," he murmured enticingly. His warm, panting breaths melded with hers. There was a smudge of sweetheart pink lipstick just above his top lip.

Her hands slid down and stopped over pecs hard as stone. His heart thundered against her palm. She desperately wished they were still kissing. Wished they were somewhere private so the kissing could lead to more.

With lips swollen from his kisses, she asked, "And go where?"

"Home." He nuzzled the corner of her mouth, then licked off the blood on her face with lazy swipes of his tongue.

"If I go home with you, what then?" Her softly-spoken words were almost lost in the pulsing music.

He drew back, capturing her gaze, lips curling suggestively. "Anything you want. Everything you want."

Her breath caught. How was she supposed to say no to that?

"Be mine tonight," he pressed. His chest had ceased moving under her hands and she realized he was holding his breath while awaiting her answer.

"Yes." She started and shook her head. "I mean, no! This is just about sex, right? That's all you want?"

She only asked because she yearned with all her heart for him to contradict her, to tell her that she was wrong, that he _did_ want more, just like she did.

Her question effected an immediate change in him. His features hardened, and his smile evaporated. His eyes tightened at the corners and lost their fire. Dipped down to her mouth. Then even lower to the rise and fall of her breasts. Finally, he raised his gaze back to hers.

There was another agonizing moment of silence, at the end of which he grated, "That's all I want."

Though it was exactly what she expected him to say, it was still jarring to have those words inhabiting the air between them. Disappointment nearly crushed her, created a steady hemorrhaging in her heart.

And yet, even hearing him admit that he only desired a one and done, she still wanted to say yes. More than anything. There was a part of her – a very large part – that wanted to accept whatever she could get with him, and a night of scorching passion with Damon Salvatore sounded completely amazing.

She mentally shook herself. No, she had to be strong. One night wouldn't be enough, and the heartache that followed wouldn't be worth it.

Or would it?

 _No,_ she told herself sternly. She wouldn't allow this insidious desire to run roughshod over her common sense. Maybe one night was good enough for him, but it wasn't even close to enough for her. Going home with him would only be a recipe for disaster.

"What you're asking me isn't fair," she whispered.

"I know." A hand came up and tugged softly on tendrils of dark brown hair. "Not really interested in being fair at the moment."

His index finger slipped beneath the delicate lacy strap of her top and followed it down until he reached the perky swell of her breasts, the skin-to-skin contact making her quiver. He continued to trail his fingertip over caramel skin just above her black lacy neckline before ultimately reaching up to toy with the silver butterfly dangling around her neck.

She took a deep breath, trying not to be distracted. "The whole point of tonight was to start moving on, and I can't do that if you're being … _you_." Tears gathered, and she rapidly blinked them away. "If I have to move on, then you have to let me."

"You kissed me," he pointed out mildly.

"I had a moment of weakness. You of all people should understand."

A pang went through her as she tore herself away from him, escaping the dance floor and the mind-scramble his nearness inspired. Everything inside of her was screaming that she was an idiot. Her body desperately craved what he was offering and it begged her to turn around, to go home with him so she could jump his bones and ride him like a ten cent carnival pony.

By some impressive display of self-control, she didn't turn back. Her high from the blood and dancing deflated, and the fiery heat Damon had ignited in her veins fizzled out, leaving her cold and hollow. She made it to the table where her friends sat conversing together. Shortly thereafter, Damon returned to his previous location at the bar. He was all cleaned up.

Her mood darkened, all her frustrated passion morphing into a volatile maelstrom of anger and misery.

Why was he doing this to her? Why was he even here? His presence served no purpose other than to torture her. And she thought that as someone who'd just been literally tortured less than a week ago. Was he simply interested in making her suffer?

Even more infuriating, he looked so calm and unruffled like he wasn't about to abandon her forever. Like they hadn't just been passionately making out. Like he hadn't then propositioned her for what basically amounted to a one-night stand. Like none of these things had affected him at all. Like none of it mattered.

Rage and heartache pricked at her, thorns painfully lodged in her heart, and sparked a need to goad some reaction - any reaction - from him.

As Stefan approached with a new round of shots, she impulsively decided to do the one thing she knew would hurt Damon the most.

Stefan set the drinks down on the table. She snatched a shot glass and sucked it down in the blink of an eye. _Blech_. Tequila. She made a face and shuddered. Then she grabbed a startled Stefan by the front of his shirt and yanked him in for a kiss.

As soon as their mouths touched, she knew she'd made a mistake. She released him promptly and jumped back. Glancing over, she saw her friends staring at her in shock. She darted a look over to Damon, but he was gone, nowhere to be seen. Her focus whipped back to Stefan. His green eyes were wide, and his mouth gaped.

"Oh my god," she gasped, "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

She whirled and walked away, unseeing, a lump of concrete taking up residence in her gut. Why had she kissed Stefan? It was like she was still channeling her evil doppelganger.

As she walked, a raindrop slid down her forehead right into her eye. Only then did she become aware that she'd wandered outside to the parking lot. Blinking away the water, she took refuge from the light drizzle under an overhang on the side of the concrete building. Shadows swallowed her up, left her practically invisible.

Barely any time passed when Damon came into view, walking out to his car. Elena saw a brunette woman with a pixie hair cut following him.

"Wait up, gorgeous, surely you aren't trying to go home alone tonight," Pixie Hair called.

He spun around, moving inhumanely fast, and gazed at the woman like she was a bug he'd discovered on the bottom of his shoe.

Oblivious to his hostility or uncaring, Pixie Hair approached and placed both her hands on his chest, looking up at him with bedroom eyes. Not wasting any time, she stood on her tip-toes and placed her lips against his.

Elena's hackles rose. Forward, much? She waited for Damon to rip the woman off and send her packing.

And waited.

And waited.

 _Any_ second now, he was going to remove the slut sucking on his face.

After a small eternity, he grabbed her upper arms and jerked her back. Not one to give up easily, Pixie Hair snaked her arms around his neck. "I know I'm not whoever it was you were hoping to go home with, but I can be anybody you want me to be."

"Stop talking," he said in a flat tone. Elena recognized that tone. It was the tone he usually reserved for right before he did something reckless and self-destructive. He pulled Pixie Hair's in close and kissed her again.

Elena's stomach sank.

Oh, sure, it was none of her business what he did, and she shouldn't care. They weren't together, and she'd just spurned his appeal for a one-night stand, so if he wanted to go bang some rando, not even waiting fifteen minutes after asking _her_ to sleep with him like a heartless bastard, then she couldn't care less.

Only problem: her heart didn't agree. It cared. It cared a lot. Every second she stood there felt like another bloody chunk was being carved out of her heart with a dull, rusty spoon.

Was this revenge for her kissing Stefan? Not likely, since he had no clue she was watching. Which meant he _wanted_ to kiss someone else. A small sound of distress escaped her.

He broke the kiss and glanced over. When he discerned her in the shadows, he straightened and scowled. "Elena?"

She turned away, unable to bear seeing anymore. She had to get out of there.

His voice rang out behind her. "Elena, wait!"

Nope. No way in hell. She vanished before he could say another word.


	9. Chapter 9

Elena squeezed the towel around her freshly-washed hair one more time, wringing out the last of the water from her shower, before hanging it back up on the rack. She deftly ran a brush through any tangles, then bound it at the nape of her neck with a hair tie.

 _There_ , she thought, studying her reflection, _squeaky clean._ No one would ever think by looking at her that she'd just been orgiastically feeding and dirty dancing at a club with the last person she should be doing either of those things with.

Seriously, she knew better. Damon had never been anything but honest about what he wanted from her. What else did she think would happen? That he'd realize he was making a mistake and profess his undying love for her?

Well … yes, she had secretly hoped that would be the case, but the logical part of her had known that that was not how the night was bound to end.

Being right sucked. Witnessing Damon kiss someone else had hurt.

Bonnie and Caroline had tried to talk her into staying the night with them on campus, and though she loved them for their good intentions, she declined, hitching a ride back into town with Matt, who thankfully didn't press for details or expect her to do much in the way of talking at all.

As they drove silently in Matt's truck, she'd resolved that instead of being sad – which, frankly, she was sick of being – she would be angry. That was a much more productive emotion as far as successfully moving on went. If Damon was too boneheaded to explore what kind of future they could have together, then that was his loss. She'd be mad at his stupid thick skull, but she refused to be sad anymore.

Once safely ensconced at home, that was when she'd showered and slipped into fresh pajamas. Soap and hot water had helped to alleviate the worst of her anger. Hopefully, a good book and a warm bed would further distract her and help her sleep.

Sighing, after one last glance in the mirror, she turned out the bathroom light and padded into her room. The sight that greeted her brought her to a halt: Damon sitting on the foot of her bed, elbows on knees. He was still wearing the same clothes he'd worn when he danced with her at the club.

He looked over when she entered, taking in the sight of her damp hair, her dark blue tank top, and the cozy plaid pajama shorts that left her long legs almost completely bare. He offered her a tentative smile.

"You shouldn't be here," she told him crossly, closing the bathroom door behind her more forcefully than she'd intended.

Half-expecting a snappy, arrogant comeback in response, she was surprised when he merely averted his eyes and breathed a little sigh. "I know."

Huffing out an impatient breath, she marched up to him, hands on her hips. "Then why are you?"

"I couldn't stand the thought of your last memory of me ending … like that. I didn't want you to see that."

"Yeah, I bet."

"Yeah," he retorted hotly, meeting her gaze, "because unlike you, I had no intention of rubbing anyone else in your face."

She flushed, chastened by his cutting reminder that she'd kissed Stefan for the sole purpose of hurting him. "Why did you even want to go tonight? Were you just trying to hurt me? Because that's what it felt like."

He gave an annoyed shake of his head. "I wasn't trying to hurt you. I was trying – I wanted to protect you."

"Protect me?" she echoed incredulously. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Considering that you _did_ just get kidnapped and tortured by a woman who was obsessed with me … no." He scowled. "I needed to make sure you were safe."

"Well, I didn't need your protection. I had Stefan there with me. He would've kept me safe, and he wouldn't have been an ass about it."

Damon smiled mirthlessly. "No, he wouldn't have. Good ol' Stefan."

"Why did you really want to go tonight?" she demanded. "And don't say it was because you wanted to protect me. Tell me the truth."

He dropped his pale face into his hands, muffling his words. "Because I'm an idiot. Because you make me completely insane. Because I wanted to be with you one last time. I know it was wrong, but…." His voice cracked, and he trailed off.

"But you're a selfish jackass?" Elena supplied helpfully.

He looked up and laughed, a brief sound with an undertone of razor blades, the sharp edges aimed only at himself. "Exactly."

Then what he'd said fully registered, causing her to forget everything else. "One last time," she repeated dully.

He glanced back down, face shuttered. His silence was deafening.

"Because you're leaving," she continued in a strained whisper.

"In the morning," he confirmed, voice barely audible

She didn't even bother to ask where he was going. She doubted he'd tell her, and in the end she didn't really care. He didn't want to be here with her, and that was what mattered.

"Okay, then," she said shortly. "Have a nice life, I guess."

"Elena," he said, gaining his feet and stretching a hand out in her direction.

She retreated a step, staying well beyond his range. Her expression was fierce, but her insides felt horribly fragile. "No, Damon, just go, please. I don't want you here. I don't want to _do_ this." Her heart couldn't handle it. Did he really expect her to be able to say good bye to him?

When he continued to stand there in silence, she snapped, "What're you waiting for? If you're going to leave, then I wish you'd just do it!"

Nodding almost imperceptibly, he headed for the door.

Just before he committed to the final step that would take him out of her room and out of her life forever, she whispered, "Wait." She spoke so quietly she doubted if he'd even heard her. But of course he had. Super vampire hearing and all.

He halted, as motionless as sculpture.

With tears glistening in her eyes and arms wrapped around herself, she asked, "Will you tell me how you did it?"

"Did what?"

"Moved on. I'm trying really hard, I _am_ , but I don't know how."

Slowly, he swung around and regarded her gravely. "How did I move on? Easy. So easy. All I had to do was never, ever let myself think about you."

He took a couple of steps towards her, then stopped half-way. In a lower voice, he said, "I never thought about how unbelievably beautiful you are."

He closed his eyes and flared his nostrils. "Never thought about your irresistible scent, sunshine and lavender."

Blue flashed as his eyes reopened. "Never thought about how you've been the only light in a lifetime of darkness."

He resumed his approach until he was close enough to touch her if he extended his arm. "Or how you always find a way to forgive people. You never give up on someone, even when you should. Not even me."

Slowly, he dropped down to his knees and looked up at her, so far above him, with an expression that was painfully exposed. "Never thought about the way you can bring me to my knees with just a look."

From his kneeling position, he crept forward, eliminating the scant remaining distance between them, a supplicant begging for a place at her altar. He pressed the side of his face against her stomach, both hands on the backs of her thighs. She quivered, her lips parting on a sharp inhale.

The hem of her tank top rode up and he conferred kisses full of prayerful fervor upon the strip of warm brown skin that was revealed, an attempt to soothe the anger from her flesh.

"Or how no one else has skin quite as soft as yours."

He began to work her little shorts down over her hips. She ought to protest what he was doing, that seemed the sensible course of action, but everything in her that wasn't sensible had hijacked her brain and was preventing her from speaking.

Soon, it was too late and her shorts were around her ankles. He traced one edge of her plain white cotton panties with his tongue.

"Never thought about how sweet you taste, like wild honey." His tongue ran up the other side. She clenched her fists at her sides. _Don't touch him_. _If you touch him, you're a goner._

"Or how being inside you is the only heaven I'll ever know." With especial reverence, he placed a kiss over the damp center of her panties.

"I never let myself think about any of those things. Not once." Elena gasped as his nose rubbed over her sweet spot. "It was the easiest thing in the world."

His subtext was clear to her: that he'd never once stopped thinking about her. That she'd played on constant repeat in his mind. That the memory of her had haunted him like his own personal demon.

The last vestiges of her anger leeched away until all that remained was desire. She slowly unclenched her hands.

Placing her palms on his cheeks, she whispered, "Please."

Thick lashes framed the anguished gaze he aimed up at her. "Please what?"

Glossy tendrils of raven hair dangled at his temples. She brushed a few to the side, but they immediately returned to their errant ways. "You know what."

With devout tenderness in every light touch of his fingers, he slid her panties down her toned legs. A little bit wobbly, she stepped out of them. As though he sensed that her knees were turning to jelly, he pressed her back until the backs of her thighs hit the bed and she sat. Strong but gentle hands spread those thighs, and he gazed upon her with an absorbed, awe-filled expression.

Once he'd looked his fill, his dark head bent and moved between her legs. Looking down, she watched as he paid homage to her with his lips and tongue and teeth, leaving heated, whispering trails along the insides of her tan, supple thighs. Up and down. Back and forth. Little licks of flame that drove her crazy.

When his tongue finally flicked over the hypersensitive peak at her center, she almost jumped out of her skin. There was a second flick followed by a long, slow _suuuck._ Everything inside of her constricted to a single point, then erupted outwards at a dazzling speed, like a thousand shooting stars. Her bones liquefied, and she fell backwards onto the bed, his name exploding from her lips.

He didn't stop but continued his sensual assault, devoting himself to her pleasure, doing such wicked things to her. She writhed. Arched into his mouth. Squirmed. Bucked. Practically elevated off the bed. He made her come again and again until she was mindless and screaming. She was totally at his mercy, and he afforded her none, pushing her beyond where she thought her limits lay with expert precision.

Afterwards, she lay there on her bed, staring dazedly at the ceiling, trembling, aftershocks pulsing through her. A voluptuous languor had reduced her limbs to enervated noodles. Damon's right cheek rested gingerly on her inner thigh, and she had just enough energy to weave lazy fingers through his thick, silky hair.

Wow. How was she supposed to want someone else after that?

Which reminded her all over again that he was leaving. Her pleasure dampened, and limp muscles tensed. She pushed his head away and scooted higher up the bed, out of his reach.

There was a moment's hesitation created by her withdrawal, and then he crawled up the bed after her, mattress springs creaking under his weight. She turned on her side, away from him. He lay down behind her and wrapped an arm tightly around her midsection, pulling her to him, hand coming to rest on her flat stomach. His heat and scent engulfed her, and his hardness strained insistently against her backside through his jeans.

Clearly, he still needed to be taken care of, but he made no indication that he had any intention of fulfilling his need. For a long while, there was only silence as he trailed gentle kisses along the slender crook of her neck and didn't press for more, content to simply lie next to her.

After a good five minutes, during which she'd fiddled with his daylight ring, running her fingertip repeatedly over the crest symbol on the large lapis-lazuli stone, she said, "I'm sorry about earlier. The only reason I kissed Stefan was to hurt you. I guess that makes me a pretty terrible person."

"I know why you did it," he assured her softly, "and you're not terrible. You're the least terrible person I know." Firm pink lips brushed over her shoulder blade and paused, warming her skin with his breath. "I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry I'm such a stupid fucking mess and that I've been taking it out on you."

"I forgive you," she whispered without the slightest hesitation. She gripped his hand tightly and peered back at him over her shoulder with wide, earnest eyes. "Don't go."

He gazed at her steadily, though the sculpted line of his jaw flexed. "I can stay tonight."

"You know that's not what I mean."

"It's all I can give."

"It's not enough! Damon, it's not - "

He slanted his mouth over hers and dominated her senses with a kiss, causing her thoughts to scatter in all directions. Her taste still clung to his lips.

Drawing back, he whispered, "One night." His voice was pleading. "Can we just have one night without all this stuff between us? One night where everything's simple and not so complicated? Please?"

She didn't have it in her to deny him or her foolish heart. Against all reason, she nodded in simple, mute assent. Why even try to fight it? She was all his. Always.

That single gesture, her nod of surrender, obliterated all restraint between them as if it had never existed at all, and overwhelming passion rushed in to fill the void. She spun in his arms, lightning-quick, and slid on top of him, straddling his waist. She grasped his shirt in both hands and ripped it down the middle, exposing the chiseled terrain of his abdomen, so extraordinarily smooth and unblemished and pale as moonlight. There followed a flurry of hands as she finished pulling his shirt off all the way while he yanked her tank top over her head and sent it winging off to some far corner of her room.

Bending down, her mouth crashed against his ravenously, and he groaned her name. They rolled some more until she lay beneath him, the full length of his hard frame imprinting onto her yielding curves. Driven mad with want, desire arrowing through her, her hips arched shamelessly in invitation. She needed him inside her.

He shifted and shucked his jeans off with vampire speed. When he was back between her legs, their mouths fused together, breaths blending. He easily found his way into her silken, giving heat, pressing so deeply there was zero separation between them. His initial rhythm was slow and intense, generating a friction that sent pleasure spiraling throughout her entire body. She tilted her hips to match his steady tempo and demanded more, all that he had to give. He obliged.

"This," he murmured raggedly while picking up the pace. "I need this." He looked down at her, arousal deepening the blue of his eyes. "Tell me that you need this, too, baby girl, as much as I do."

The truth burst from her as a single, breathless cry. "Yes!"

Two more perfectly timed thrusts and her body quickened with rapture, sublime ecstasy hurtling her out among the stars. She clawed at the rippling muscles of his back, nails digging into his skin and leaving bloody grooves in their wake.

Upon feeling her climax, he abandoned any trace of gentleness and drove deep with powerful, fluid strokes until she was lost to desire again, the cadence of their bodies fierce and beyond either of their control. As another brilliant, jagged orgasm left her reeling, his own furious release overtook him.

Shuddering and spent, he tumbled down beside her and cradled her in his arms. She didn't have the strength to do anything but cling to him weakly, trying to catch her breath.

"So beautiful," he whispered into her soft, dark hair. "You are so beautiful, and, holy shit, that felt so good."

Her arms and legs tightened around him, and she smiled. "We should do it again as soon as possible."

"Give me five minutes, and we will," he vowed, a little hoarsely. "I'll make you come at least a dozen more times before I'm done with you tonight."

A dozen? Was that even possible?

But apparently, it was.

And he only needed three minutes.

* * *

Upon waking, she had no notion of what time it was beyond that it was obviously morning. Sunlight filtered through the windows. Pink curtains tinted the broad rays and bestowed a tranquil, rosy glow upon a large swath of the room.

She'd harbored the fear that Damon would steal away before she woke up, but here he was in bed with her still, sprawled on his back, arm draped around her, fingers affectionately sifting through the luxuriant mass of brown hair that had come free of its hair tie at some point last night. Her cheek rested on his chest, and she was as smushed against him as she could possibly be. He smelled like his own unique blend of dark spices and sex.

And with good reason. Last night had been a revelation. They'd finally had the chance to leisurely explore every inch of each other, to discover what gave the other pleasure, to have sex every which way and from every position.

It was a good thing Jeremy had stayed out with Bonnie overnight. Otherwise, he'd have gotten an embarrassing earful.

Without cracking an eye, a husky rattle in his voice, Damon murmured, "Morning, sunshine."

She looked up at him and smiled. "Good morning."

A super sexy layer of thin black stubble shadowed the lower half of his face. She couldn't resist reaching up and gliding her fingers over his bristly jaw. As she savored the raspy texture, evidence of the way her touch affected him swelled conspicuously against her hip bone.

"Sweet dreams?" she inquired.

"Mm-hmm." He tipped her chin up and pressed a kiss to her lips. "And they're about to get a whole lot sweeter."

Still half asleep, he guided her onto her side, fitting her back perfectly against his chest like a key into a lock. He nipped at her throat, an erotic bite that made her convulse and giggle.

His hand slid over the graceful curve of her hip, then dipped lower, dabbling with clever fingers between her legs until her giggles dissolved into breathy gasps. She undulated back against him, wiggling her rear end against his swollen length.

"Let me show you what you do to me, angel," he rumbled in her ear.

Oh, she could definitely feel what she was doing to him – and really, after the number of times they'd had sex last night, was there any question? - but if he was up – pun intended – for another demonstration, then she was one hundred percent ready and willing.

Raising her top leg for easy access, he arched his hips forward, penetrating her tight, wet core. The sweet fullness drew a moan from her. As their bodies intertwined and danced together, he cupped a breast, squeezed, massaged, rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Electricity shimmered over and through her with every touch, every thrust. God, she hoped this never stopped. She wanted it to last forever.

His fangs sank into the soft skin of her neck and it was pure pleasure. He drew her blood down with hungry pulls, and that pleasure magnified and transformed her blood into rivers of erotic fire. As he sucked in time with his pumping hips, she broke apart completely, sweet bliss detonating through her with the force of a small bomb.

He followed closely on the heels of her explosive climax, a raw groan vibrating against her throat, his arms crushing her to him.

For awhile after, they dozed, sluggish and content. The looming shadow of his unbearably imminent departure seemed smaller and less threatening while snuggled in the slumberous warmth of his arms. She could almost pretend that they were just a normal couple lazing away the morning together.

If only this moment could be spun out forever.

But the moment proved to be as lasting and durable as a soap bubble, rupturing as soon as she felt his arms loosen and let go. She rolled onto her back to find him perched on the edge of the bed, hunched over and donning his jeans.

Sitting up, she seized the bed-sheet and gathered it up as a cover over her bare chest. Sobs climbed her throat but she stifled them. If she started crying, she'd never stop. "Please don't leave me."

He stopped moving, the muscles of his back hard and white like marble.

She went on, "When you left last time, I felt like I was going to die. Please don't put me through that again."

He half-turned, looking at her with one pale blue eye. "Let me ask you a question. When a devil and an angel fall in love, do you think they get to have a happy ending?"

"You're not the devil. And I'm not an angel."

He managed an approximation of a smile. Or maybe it was more of a grimace. "But you get my point. It was a mistake to come home. Staying would be an even bigger one."

"Why?"

His lips pressed themselves into a thin, whitish line. "While I was away, I had a chance to clear my head. Gain some clarity."

That certainly sounded ominous. She interjected, "And you gained this so-called clarity while you were completely sober, I'm sure."

The look he gave her was not amused, but he continued on. "All this time I've been trying to push you away, and it wasn't just to avoid getting hurt again. I didn't want to hurt _you_. The truth is you're better off without me. I have nothing to offer you but an awful lot of pain and darkness. That is what I _am,_ and everything that's happened recently only confirms that. I wish that I could be good for you – deserve you. More than anything. But I can't. And one day, I know you'll realize that, too."

She scooted up next to him. "I know who you are. I know that you have a dark side. That you can be cruel and impulsive and vindictive. But I also know that there's good in you, and that you would do anything for the people you love." When he didn't respond, she placed a fingertip under his chin and turned his face to hers. "I know who you are, Damon, and that's _why_ I want to be with you."

He flinched away from the intimacy of her gaze. "How can you say that after the way I've treated you?"

"Because I love you, and I need you in my life."

He stood up and finished fastening his jeans. "We won't work, Elena. I'd only end up hurting you." He sighed. "More than I already have."

"How do you know that? What if you're wrong? What if we're happy? Isn't it worth the risk to try and find out?"

When he bent down to lace up his boots without answering, she exploded with frustration. "I don't understand what is happening right now! I feel like I'm talking to Stefan here. Since when does Damon Salvatore not go after exactly what he wants and damn the consequences and all the people who'll get hurt in the process?"

He straightened up and finally looked directly into her eyes, his mein strangely serene and resolute. "Do you remember all the times you asked me to be the better man?"

Confusion made wrinkles appear on her forehead. What did that have to do with anything? "Yeah."

"This is me doing that."

"Really?" she challenged. "'Cause from here, it just looks like you're being a coward. I'm willing to fight for us. Why aren't you?"

"Because I want you to be happy. I want you to be safe. And for once in my life, I'm going to do the right thing."

He knew how many people she'd lost in her short life. How could he really believe that forcing her to go through the pain of losing him again was the right thing? "If you don't want to be with me, fine, but why do you have to _leave_? It's not just me, you know. Stefan needs you, too. I'll stay away from you, I promise."

His lips twisted ruefully. "I think I've pretty much established that I'm the one who can't stay away from you. Not if I'm anywhere near you. I thought I could, but … I was wrong."

With that, he headed for the door. Elena jumped up, wrapping the covers around herself.

"If you do this," she cried, "I'm done. I mean it, Damon! I'm not going to miss you; I'm not going to wait for you; I'm not going to love you anymore. I'm moving on."

She didn't mean it. Even as the words passed through her lips, she knew they were a lie, knew that she'd have a Damon-shaped hole in her heart for the rest of eternity, but right now she was desperate enough to say anything, try anything to make him stay.

He glanced over his shoulder for a moment, then backtracked until he stood in front of her. He clasped her face with warm, strong hands and leaned in, kissing her chastely on the forehead with velvet lips. As he drew back, he gazed deeply into her pain-filled, brown eyes. "Good." His thumbs grazed worshipfully across her cheekbones. "Good bye, Elena."

He spun and strode out of her room, closing the door softly behind him.

For a moment, she stood frozen in complete shock. This couldn't possibly really be happening. How could he just walk out on her? How was she going to survive it?

Slowly, she melted into a puddle of tangled linens on the floor, grief settling over her with the finality of a funeral shroud. Her eyes were glassy, her limbs motionless like a doll's.

She couldn't feel her heart. It wasn't broken or pained or even numb. It was dead. Her hands clenched reflexively, balling up the sheet in her fists. She wanted to rip the organ out so that she no longer had to be burdened by such a useless lump of flesh.

The longer she sat there, the more her misery continued to escalate until it was too much. How could she do this again? How could she bear her world without Damon in it? Oh, god, it _hurt_ -

Something inside her snapped violently, then resettled into place with a soft click. The vise around her heart loosened and fell away.

 _Much better._

Shedding the sheets and her sadness like an old skin, she rose to her feet, an exquisitely nude Venus borne up from the depths of a wine-dark sea, hair floating around her like an unruly storm cloud.

A sly smile tugged at her lips. Yes, she felt much better now that she didn't feel anything at all.


	10. Chapter 10

Turning off her humanity was the best thing that had ever happened to Elena.

Or, at least it was until her so-called friends decided to interfere.

While 'shopping' in the nearby town of Grove Hills, she walked out of a clothing boutique store, several brand new outfits that she'd compelled herself for free slung over her shoulder.

Caroline was waiting on the sidewalk. The blonde girl gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Hi, Elena."

Elena raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. It was a beautiful, bright day, and sunlight glinted off the silver in her daylight ring. "What do you want?"

"I'm great, thanks for asking." Caroline adjusted the straps on her baggy gray purse until they were no longer in danger of slipping off her shoulder. "Just wondering if you know anything about the people back home who've been attacked by a vampire? We found a few of them just wandering in the town square like lost puppies."

Elena frowned. "I compelled them not to say anything."

"Oh, they didn't say anything. They didn't need to. The whole bloody, gaping neck wound thing gave it away."

Caroline's judgmental tone made Elena's eyes roll heavenward. "What's the big deal? It's not like I killed them."

When she not-so-subtly tried to maneuver around her friend, Caroline persisted. "Is everything okay? You spend a little bit of time with Damon, and suddenly you're feeding on people and leaving them severely wounded in the middle of the town square. Doesn't that seem a little, oh I don't know, odd to you?"

Elena's shoulders rose and fell the tiniest degree. "I don't know what to tell you. I'm fine."

"Jeremy said you haven't been home in a few days. Everyone's worried. Where've you been?"

"Last time I checked, you weren't my baby-sitter."

Caroline exhaled heavily. "Stefan thought this might've happened." She forced a hopeful smile. "You wouldn't be willing to go somewhere with me, would you?"

"Pass." Elena whirled, seeking escape in the other direction.

Her way was blocked by Bonnie who said sadly, "Sorry, Elena."

"No," Elena snarled and launched into a desperate race, trying to reach the witch before pain incapacitated her.

Too late. Before she was even halfway, she doubled over, crying out and clutching her skull as fireworks exploded in her brain. She fell to her knees, and someone jammed a needle into her neck, filling her with an overwhelming dose of vervain. Elena's eyes rolled up in her head, and she succumbed to oblivion.

It was the painful pinch of ropes that were tied too snugly around her wrists that dragged her from the murky depths of unconsciousness and into harsh awareness. Her eyelids fluttered open as she stirred and raised her chin off her chest. God, how long had she been out? Her neck was killing her.

While she took a much-needed minute to gather herself mentally, she realized she was tied to a chair and locked up in the dim, musty cell beneath the Salvatore boarding house. Great. Just great.

To make matters worse, she was also nursing a wicked vervain hangover. Blood flowed sluggishly, painfully through her veins. When she tugged ineffectively on the ropes binding her to the chair, she had all the strength of a new-born kitten.

She growled wordlessly, though the sound ended up sputtering into a cough. Her mouth was dry as dust. She had to get out of here, and she didn't just mean this cell. She meant Mystic Falls. Staying close to home had been a rookie mistake – one she wouldn't be making twice. She should have expected her friends to do something stupid like this. As soon as she regained her freedom, she was leaving Mystic Falls behind without a backward glance.

The sensation of being watched alerted her to the fact that she wasn't alone. She looked over at the cell door and spied Stefan. His pallid face was clearly visible through the iron bars of the viewing aperture, his melancholy green eyes full of concern.

She sneered, "Vervain? Ropes? Locked in a dungeon? What exactly are you Salvatores so afraid of? I'm just a girl."

"A very resourceful girl."

"Let me out of here," she hissed, already over the conversation.

"You know I can't do that, not when your new feeding habits have put us all at risk."

"So, what then? You're going to starve me? Torture me until I do what you want?"

"I'm not, but he is."

With a rusty creak, the heavy cell door swung open and revealed an unmistakable outline standing beside Stefan. Damon inclined his head. "Hello, Elena."

She stared back at him unblinkingly and felt nothing except the need to escape.

He stepped across the dark threshold and joined her in the cell. "I got it from here, brother."

"If you need a hand, I'll be upstairs." Stefan closed the door behind Damon. Elena never heard the lock slide shut.

With a nearly soundless tread, Damon approached, shadows moving across the planes and hollows of his pale face, dark mixing with light. She made sad eyes and feebly strained against her bonds. "Untie me. Please, Damon, they're really tight. It hurts."

"I bet. Flip your switch, and I'll untie you right now. We can walk out of here easy as pie."

She discarded the pitiful act and leaned back, affecting a seductive, _come-and-get-me_ look. "Or don't untie me. I'm willing to try a little kink."

"I'll remind you of that when you're yourself again," he informed her with a blatantly male look. In the next breath, that look disappeared, and he continued, "But for now – and I can't believe I'm actually saying this - rain check on the kinky sex. First, you and I are going to have a little chat."

She moaned and sagged against the back of the chair. "Can you please just torture me instead?"

He withdrew a blood bag from his back pocket. "You look like you could use a drink."

As her dark eyes fixated on it, he held it toward her as though tempting a horse with a carrot. She sat up ram-rod straight, nails digging into the armrests like a hawk's talons grasping for purchase on its perch. She still had enough strength to make them crack loudly.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the blood bag on her lap. Leaning over, he easily ripped off the ropes holding her captive. When she looked up at him in surprise, he smirked. "Oops."

For an entire second, she regarded him warily, confused by his actions and searching for the trap, but then her hunger got the best of her, and she snatched up the blood from where it had landed on her thighs. She didn't even bother opening it the conventional way, just pierced the plastic with her fangs. Damon stood by silently while she gulped it down. Not very ladylike, but she didn't care. Once drained, she tossed the shriveled plastic aside and hopped up, heading for the door. The blood bag had restored her, but it hardly satisfied. She needed more. Something fresh.

He intercepted her, eyebrows raised, finger wagging. "Ah-ah, we're not done yet."

Her eyebrows went up in direct mockery of his. " _I_ am."

When she attempted to skirt around him, he grabbed her upper arm. His fingers curled around her bicep and dug into her flesh just enough to remind her that she couldn't hope to outrun or outmuscle him. A charming, crooked smile creased his face, and he used his most soothing tone. "Just hear me out. Then, you can leave. I won't stop you."

After taking a minute to weigh the pros and cons of resistance, she went limp in his grasp. If it would get her out of here, she could play along for a little while.

"Fine," she said, not wanting to waste any more time, "if you want to talk, talk. Give me a condescending lecture about why I should turn my humanity back on."

He released her arm, all levity vanishing from his features. "No lecture, just the truth. One vampire to another, I get the allure of turning it off, believe me. It's incredible – the absolute freedom from all pain and guilt and responsibility. There's nothing to make you weak. But I know better than anyone that it doesn't last forever, and there's always a price to pay."

"Am I supposed to believe you care when you left me not once but twice?"

"Yes, I left you," he replied softly. "Because I thought it was the right thing to do. _For you._ I left you and got in my car and started driving with every intention of hitting the highway and never looking back. But I couldn't do it. Not this time. Instead of taking the turn that leads out of town, I found myself pulling into the small parking lot of a small motel. Do you remember the one I'm talking about?"

"I do now, no thanks to you."

He flinched, her pointed comment not lost on him. "That night with you … changed everything. It was the first time I let my humanity back in in a long time." A smile tugged at his lips as he was pictured her on that night years ago. "You were so kind and genuine and not at all what I was expecting. Even then you chose to see the good in a monster. You weren't afraid of me. And you made me want to feel something again, even if only for a moment." He reached for her hand and she allowed him to take it. His thumb rubbed calming circles on her palm. "That's the girl her friends and family need. That's the girl _I_ need. This isn't who you want to be, Elena, trust me. This isn't you."

She rolled her eyes and removed her hand from his. "Actually, it is, and I feel amazing."

"You're stronger than this. Better."

"Obviously not. Why do you even care? You said you wanted me to be happy, and now I am."

"This is not what I meant. Turning it off does not equal happiness."

"It also doesn't equal grief or suffering. Should I go back to being the sad, pathetic little girl whose world stopped spinning just because of some guy? No thanks. Now you're the one who's pathetic. Big, bad vampire so afraid of a little girl."

From the look on his face, she knew she'd scored a hit. Lines of tension rimming his mouth belied his nonchalant demeanor.

Pressing her advantage, she purred, "But this was never just about fear, was it? No, because there's a part of you that enjoyed it. Enjoyed breaking my heart. Enjoyed punishing me for breaking yours."

A muscle in Damon's cheek twitched. "If, by enjoyed, you mean hated myself more than I ever thought possible, then sure."

"Oh, come on, not even a little?" She leaned in close. A vein in his neck pulsed erratically a hair's breadth from her lips. "I look like Katherine. It must have been like killing two birds with one sadistic stone." She pressed her lips to his bare throat and sucked gently on the sensitive skin. "Admit it. It felt good."

He growled a curse, teeth bared, and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her mouth off his skin. She laughed and her tongue darted out, wetting the sensuous curve of her upper lip. He followed the movement avidly.

"Do it," she breathed, deliberately goading him. "Throw me down on the ground and fuck me. Punish me all you want. I know you want to. I promise I'll like it every bit as much as you do."

For the briefest of moments she thought he meant to do it. His pupils dilated fully, the icy blueness of his eyes almost completely obscured by black, and his hand tightened in her hair, making her scalp prickle. But then he relinquished his hold with a jerk and stumbled back against the cell wall. Knees giving out, he sank to the ground with a _thump_. She went down with him and straddled his waist. He stared up at her dazedly, breath labored.

"What's the matter?" she asked curiously, a tiny wrinkle marring her brow. "Is it only fun when you get to see me cry?"

For the first time, he grew visibly angry, lips going pale, nostrils flaring. "You can't really believe that! You can't really believe that I enjoy hurting you. Or that I've been anything but completely in love with you this entire time."

While he was speaking, she experienced an aesthetic appreciation for his features - on purely objective grounds, of course. They were all just so … perfectly proportioned. Like he was a piece of classical sculpture. Her hand rose and the pad of her index finger touched the point of his chin. "You love me?"

"I tried to stop, but I can't." There was no more anger in his voice, only surrender.

Her finger traced the strong, square line of his jaw all the way to his ear. He might appear cold and hard, but under her touch, his skin was warm and soft. She followed the curve of his ear to its peak, brushing through the silky black hair that feathered over it, then jumped across to the high crest of his cheekbone. "Then maybe you're the one who should turn it off."

Her finger descended the straight slope of his nose and finally landed delicately on his upper lip, right where it curved in a sensual cupid's bow.

"I did, in the beginning," he confessed. "It didn't help. You were still the only thing I thought about." He laughed, a mirthless, choked sound that was more of a scoff than a chuckle. "You don't want to know how that manifested itself."

After leisurely tracing the shape of his mouth, so lush and pink, she bent and swept her lips over his, back and forth, tasting, sampling. He groaned, which she didn't so much hear as feel, the sound vibrating up from his chest and into her mouth. His fingers stroked along the grooves of her spine, love and longing for her evident in every gentle touch.

She whispered, "You love me." It wasn't a question this time, but a statement.

"I'm so in love with you I can't see straight," he whispered back, still caressing her back with pale, elegant fingers.

She stared down at him. There was a beat before she suddenly broke into laughter. "That was your big plan, wasn't it? You'd tell me you loved me, and I'd be so overcome with warm and fuzzy emotions, I'd have no choice but to turn my humanity back on."

He blinked owlishly as though emerging from total darkness into a bright light. "I'm sensing that it didn't work."

"It didn't work. Maybe you should have said it when I still cared."

His hand slid through her hair, long and dark brown like melted chocolate. "I know you don't care right now, but I need you to hear it, so that one day when you do care again …."

"I won't."

He continued petting her hair. That gentle sensation, the heat and scent of his body, the stunning blue of his eyes…. All these things were the opposite of unpleasant. They forced her to focus on the very attractive, virile man between her legs. They forced her to remember how good the sex with him had been. How good his hands and mouth felt all over her. How good he felt moving inside her. Her body responded to these thoughts, and she decided that she would have sex with him right now. She would wipe him out of her system before she took off.

"I feel nothing for you," she told him bluntly, "but I don't need emotions to see that you're really freaking hot. Let's fuck."

Her lips returned to his throat and nibbled their way to his ear. Along the way, she pressed tender kisses in the hollow below his jaw. Once she reached her destination, she sucked his earlobe between her teeth. Gliding her hands under his shirt and up the lean, sinewy expanse of his chest, she found and explored nipples hard enough to cut glass. Clearly delineated ab muscles. The light dusting of black hair beneath his navel. When her fingers tried to bury themselves beneath the waistband of his jeans, seeking the erection that throbbed intimately against her, he inhaled sharply and latched onto her wrists, freezing her in place.

"No."

"Why are you fighting this?" she murmured while planting more kisses on his throat. "Isn't this what you wanted? Now we can have a bunch of meaningless sex with no pesky emotions to get in the way."

With a light scrape of her sharp, little fangs, a razor-thin line of crimson appeared on the side of his throat. The teardrop of blood she licked away was dark and rich and headier than wine, more delicious than sin.

"Is that really how I seemed?" he asked with eyes closed. "Like being with you meant nothing to me? I must be a better actor than I thought."

She wanted him to stop talking. Aroused and in desperate need of relief, she mashed her mouth over his, nipping, biting, drawing blood. Devouring. As gentle as she'd been before, she was rough now, wielding her kiss like a weapon. She wanted to make him angry. Wanted to make him lose control. Wanted to break him. Turn him inside out. Flay him alive. She wanted to force his monster to come out and play.

But he let her do whatever she wanted, submitting to her assault with nary a murmur of protest. Not once did he try to stop her or temper the wildly violent clash of lips and teeth and tongues.

Frustration rose in her which she ruthlessly tamped down. Why wouldn't he react? She pulled away, and his eyes slid open. His pale blue gaze was completely unguarded, his soul bared to her sight. Somehow that made him seem more naked than if he'd been stripped of all his clothes. The vulnerable look tugged at something in her, something that struggled to make its way to the surface. She shoved it back into the remotest crevices of her heart, where it could stay forever as far as she was concerned, never to see the light of day.

"Being with you meant _everything_ ," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm not giving up on you."

His words cooled her ardor like nothing else could. She wrenched her hands out from under his shirt and stood in one smooth motion. "I'm done. I listened to what you had to say, and now I'm leaving."

She was out the door and into the stairwell before he regained his footing. She soon skidded to a halt, though, because someone was blocking her exit. In the bottom of the shadowy stairwell lurked Katherine. Her nemesis wore a shape hugging black leather jacket, tight black jeans, and black stiletto-heeled boots. A lapis-lazuli pendant necklace dangled just above her black tank top and an oversized square belt buckle flashed at her slender waist. Her lips were painted a dusky pink, and her brown eyes were hauntingly dark beneath dramatically long lashes and thin dark eyebrows. Loose curls tumbled freely about her face and down her back. She looked sleek and glamorous.

"Oh, no," Elena snarled. "You?"

Katherine pouted prettily. "Obviously. They wanted this done right."

"Excuse you, bitch of little faith," mumbled Damon as he came up behind Elena. His mouth was still swollen and glistening from her savage kiss.

Katherine straightened from where she lounged against the wall and stepped off the bottom stair, heading right for Elena but speaking to Damon. "As predicted, your plan failed. Now we're going to do things my way."

"You said you'd let me leave," Elena hissed at Damon.

"Yeah, I said _I_ would. I didn't say anything about her. She's evil."

Elena ground her teeth together while Katherine smiled insincerely at her and remarked, "So, snowflake, you're all bad-ass now."

"What I am is really tired of people getting in my way."

"And feisty, too. I like it." The elder vampire stalked around her, shrewd gaze encompassing her from head to toe. The points of her stilettos left circular indentations on the earthen floor like mini stab wounds.

"Why are you doing this, Katherine?" Elena asked wearily. "You'll never convince me that you give a crap about my emotional well-being."

Her doppelganger's answering smile was fierce. "I don't, but I promised our boys" – she winked coyly at Damon whose lips twisted into a scowl - "that I'd help them turn you back into their pretty little princess who's too precious for this world, and I'm willing to keep that promise as long as it's not inconvenient for me. So we need to make this snappy, because I have better things to do."

"Oh?" Damon inquired sarcastically. "Are we keeping you from meeting your daily quota of lives ruined?"

Katherine shot him an evil side-eye. "Did I though? Ruin your life? No, I don't think so. If it weren't for me, you'd never have met Elena. Is that what you'd prefer?"

He shifted and looked away.

"That's what I thought. Besides, from what I just overheard a few minutes ago, you don't need my help crashing and burning." She returned her attention to Elena. "I'll make this simple. We're skipping all the banter and posturing and getting right to the violence. Flip your humanity switch, or I'll torture everyone you love and make you watch."

Elena shrugged, signifying how utterly unimpressed she was. "Empty threat. I don't love anyone right now."

Katherine stepped in really, really close, eyes narrowed to slits. "Are you sure about that?"

With a voice as dead as she felt inside, Elena replied, "Yeah."

"Hmm, okay, then I guess you won't care if I do this."

Like magic, a stake materialized in Katherine's hand. She stepped backward which brought her within range of Damon. Quicker than a striking snake, her arm whipped out and plunged the stake right through his heart. He expelled a forceful breath and clutched weakly at the protruding stake, his face a mask of disbelief. He dropped to his knees, then over onto his back.

Elena stared in shock, mouth hanging open, eyes wide with horror. "No!"

As the grey pallor of death crept up Damon's neck and spread over his face, the light in his blue eyes faded faster than a falling star streaking across the night sky.

Not even the self-defense mechanism of a no-humanity switch could withstand the rushing river of emotions that flooded through her at the sight of Damon's corpse. Everything that she had excised not only returned full-force but multiplied exponentially. Before she'd been empty, filled with nothing. Now she was brimming over with so much soul-deep pain it didn't seem physically possible that she could contain it all without bursting at the seams.

"No, no, no, no, please don't be dead. _Please._ Oh my god, _Damon_ …." She flung herself onto the ground at his side and cradled his head in her arms, weeping brokenly, denying the evidence before her eyes. "You're not dead. You can't be dead."

Katherine stooped and reclaimed the stake, yanking it free. She smirked. "My work here is done."

Elena went from soul-numbing anguish to white-hot rage in point-two seconds. Her mind emptied itself of everything except swift, brutal revenge. She jumped to her feet and bared her fangs.

"You bitch!" She took a lunging step forward with every intention of ripping Katherine's heart out or dying in the process but her doppelganger held up her hands placatingly.

"Relax, it wasn't real." Katherine pressed the stake against her palm. It folded in on itself. "See? Collapsible stake."

"But - " Elena spun and saw Damon sitting up, so wonderfully, amazingly alive. He looked completely healthy. Her joy and relief were so profound that tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes and left hot, wet tracks down her cheeks. "How?"

Bonnie's voice answered her question. "An illusion spell. I'm sorry, Elena, it had to look real. You had to believe it."

Elena peeled her eyes away from Damon and saw Bonnie, Caroline, Jeremy, and Stefan crowding the bottom basement stairs. She hadn't even heard them come down. Their faces were colored with various shades of worry and apprehension.

"It wasn't real?" Her voice trembled.

Katherine flicked her wrist in an exasperated manner. "It wasn't real. Get over it, and while you're at it, show a little gratitude. I just rescued you from your own stupidity."

"Could we get some privacy?" Damon asked, though his tone made it clear that it wasn't actually a request. As he rose to his feet, he rubbed a spot on the back of his head. Maybe he'd bumped it while faking his own death.

Good, Elena thought, dashing away her tears. He deserved it. She had to fight off the ridiculous urge to go over and kick him in the shins. It was a really close fight. She almost lost.

"Fine, but don't forget you owe me. Big time," Katherine announced and strutted past everyone up the stairs. After a reassuring nod from Elena, the others followed. That left her and Damon alone.

Several minutes ticked by with neither of them saying anything. They just stood awkwardly in the narrow hallway, facing one another, several feet of space between them. Though she'd never have known it from the noncommittal look on his face, he was nervous. She could only tell because of the way his blood sang briskly through his veins, powered by a heart tattooing an unsteady rhythm behind his ribcage.

Once she trusted herself enough to speak without breaking down, she demanded, "That was your idea? Or _hers_?"

"Neither. It was Jeremy's." He smiled begrudgingly. "I must be rubbing off on him."

She glared, palm itching with the urge to slap him.

He seemed to sense that and retreated a step. "It's not like we _wanted_ to trick you, but it was a good idea." After a beat, he added, as though it somehow justified what he'd put her through, "And it worked."

"It was none of your business! Why do _you_ even care? You shouldn't even be here!"

"I couldn't let you do that to yourself, Elena. Whatever happened would be on me."

"So not only did you leave me, but you decided that I have to feel every horrible moment of it, too."

"I was just trying to do the right thing. All I've ever wanted is to do what's right for you, Elena."

She shook her head back and forth slowly, not wanting to accept what he was saying. "It was all a trick."

"No," he protested adamantly, "not all of it. I meant everything I said to you in there." He jerked his chin in the direction of the cell.

She held a hand out in front of her to stop him from speaking further. There was an odd squeezing in her chest. "I can't talk about that right now. I don't know what I'm feeling. I need – I need a minute."

That was true. Her mind churned chaotically, refusing to settle, a gathering storm that had yet to break. All she knew for certain was that she felt exhausted and drained. Her back fetched up against the cold, rough stone wall and she slid down until her butt hit the floor. Drawing her legs in, she hugged her knees tightly. She planned to get up and leave in a minute … but for now she just needed to sit.

He watched as she slowly folded in on herself, the tilt of his mouth rueful. Then, he too slid down across from her. The toe of his boot butted up against the tip of her sneaker. She didn't know if she wanted it there, but she didn't pull away.

Meeting his gaze, she frowned. "I don't need-"

"I'm not leaving you," he interrupted, softly but firmly.

She swallowed the rest of her words, and they went down thickly, almost choking her. She wasn't sure what he meant by that. Did he mean that he wasn't leaving her right now or that he wasn't leaving her ever?

Her frown hesitantly morphed into a small, sweet smile. She'd worry about it later. For now, it was enough that he was here and that he was alive.

He gave her a soft, affectionate look in return that made her vision blur with tears. She looked down.

They stayed that way, completely silent, barely touching, for a long time.


	11. Chapter 11

With a hand poised on the doorknob, Elena glanced back. "Hey, Jer, I'm going for a run. Be back in a little bit."

Jeremy mumbled, "Okay," from the couch without looking away from the TV screen. Brightly colored video game men dashed about, their antics accompanied by the sounds of explosions and rapid-fire gun bursts.

Since that was as much of a response as she was likely to get, she proceeded to open the door and step outside onto the front porch, preparing for her run. Being a vampire, she obviously didn't need the exercise, but she wanted the weary mindlessness that came with physical exertion.

She brushed away some wisps of hair that had escaped from her ponytail and made a final adjustment to the iPod strapped to her upper arm. It took a moment, but just when she was about to pop her earbuds in, she realized she wasn't alone. Damon was sitting on the porch swing.

"Oh – hey." Her hand fell away from her ear. "I didn't hear you knock."

He flashed her a strained smile. "I didn't. I wasn't sure if you'd invite me in or slam the door in my face."

Heart thudding painfully behind her ribcage, she began walking towards him. It'd been three days since she and Damon had parted ways after spending an almost entirely silent night together in his basement, too in shock from the fallout of her disastrous decision to shut off her humanity to resolve anything.

Three days of being trapped in a chaotic tumult of emotion and longing and uncertainty.

Three days of missing him so badly that at times she could barely function.

Three days of tortuous waiting and wondering if their fractured relationship could be repaired – and if that was even what she wanted. She loved him still - of that, she was certain – and he said he loved her, but she didn't know if that was enough or how they would find the path that would move them forward.

He watched her approach with trepidation. She settled beside him on the swing, the painted wood cool on the backs of her thighs, exposed in her athletic shorts.

"Honestly, I'm not sure what I would've done either." She bit her lip. Whatever else she was feeling, she at least owed him her gratitude for sticking around and saving her from the darkest version of herself. "I guess I should thank you for helping me even though I didn't want to be helped. I'm sorry for the things I said when I was …." _an evil bitch_ , she finished silently and trailed off, embarrassed.

"Don't. You have nothing to apologize for. I deserved far worse." He stopped talking abruptly and stared off into the distance. "I've been trying to figure out what the hell I could say to you that would mean anything."

Tilting her head, she greedily drank in the sight of his handsome profile. "Did you come up with anything yet?"

"Oddly enough, Hallmark doesn't make a card for situations like this."

She laughed. "Yeah, I guess there aren't very many people who are as messy and complicated as we are."

He extended his hand, palm up. It floated in the space between them. "Maybe you would let me show you something, instead?"

With a nod and a curious look, she placed her hand in his, threading their fingers together.

"Close your eyes," he instructed gently.

She obeyed, dying to know what he was up to.

A few seconds passed, and then she heard, "You can open them now."

As his voice resounded through her mind like they were in some sort of giant echo chamber, she reopened her eyes and found herself standing on a spot of green grass in the center of a circular dirt driveway, blinking while her vision adjusted to dazzling sunlight. Rising high above her, fashioned with straight, elegant lines, was a two-story white estate house.

Her hand was no longer securely placed in Damon's, because they were no longer next to each other on her porch swing. Glancing about, she spotted him several yards away sitting on one of the porch steps leading up to the front of the house. He was dressed like he came from a by-gone era in a loose white shirt and dark gray pants held up by suspenders. His hair was longer and parted so that it tumbled in soft, black waves mostly across his right temple. There was a football in his hands.

When their eyes connected, he grinned and set the ball down beside him. He jumped up and crossed the distance towards her while it dawned on her what was happening. He was sharing a dream vision with her, like what he had done for Rose. He had whisked her deep into a memory from his past.

Once he was close enough, he captured her hand, pressing soft, sensual lips against caramel-hued skin, every inch the southern gentleman. As he straightened, his eyes glinted mischievously.

"Miss Gilbert."

Even his voice had a pronounced Southern drawl, slow as molasses and so sexy her toes curled. Literally.

A smile stretched her lips. "Mr. Salvatore, this is completely unfair."

He grinned, looking the same as he always did and yet also completely different. His hair was still sinfully black, his eyes still a smoldering blue. Nevertheless, he possessed some new quality that he hadn't possessed five seconds ago when they were talking together on her porch swing. It was something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

And then it hit her.

She reached up and pressed her palm to his cheek, staring at him with unabashed wonder. His face was ruddy from generous exposure to sunshine and fresh air. His aura was idealistic. Vibrant. He looked a century and a half younger, the lines that bitterness and cynicism had etched into his features gone.

"You're human," she breathed. "Oh, this is definitely cheating."

"So are you," he responded with a quirk of his lips.

As unlikely as it sounded, she'd been so caught up in this dream world he'd brought her to that she hadn't realized anything was different, but now that he'd pointed it out, she was taken aback. How could she not have noticed immediately?

The constant craving for blood, never satisfied, always lurking in the background no matter how recently she'd fed, was gone. Poof. No more.

Also, no more athletic shorts or Underarmor shirt or messy ponytail. She was now dressed like a lady from the antebellum south in a deep midnight blue bodice and matching hoop skirt with short capped sleeves. Fine white lace adorned the sumptuous dress at strategic points, including along her generously exposed cleavage. Her hair was long and straight and hung freely down her back.

She'd worn similar looking dresses during special town events, such as when she was in the Founder's Day parade, but they definitely hadn't been the real thing. They were always costumes, meant to mimic only, not to be faithful historical reconstructions. What she was currently wearing was the real thing. It was heavy and difficult to move in, but it was stunningly beautiful.

Done absorbing her new look, she took a moment to study the house looming behind Damon. Stefan had brought her to his ancestral home for a visit while it lay in crumbling ruins, but now here it was, resurrected in all its former glory, complete with Greek columns and a porch that ran the length of the front of the house.

"This is where you and Stefan lived," she said, looking to him for confirmation.

"Born and raised." Gallantly, he offered his arm. "Walk with me?"

"Sure."

Charmed by this opportunity to see a new side of Damon, she wove her arm through his, and they set off at a sedate pace. He was clearly in no hurry, so, rather than mar this time by dredging up the difficult issues that lay between them like easily triggered land mines, she chose to focus on the enchanting loveliness of her surroundings.

Which wasn't hard.

The Salvatore house was situated amidst fertile, well-manicured grounds. The heat was slightly oppressive, an accurate representation of a humid Virginian summer, but a frisky breeze blew about, which prevented them from being uncomfortable. The rhythmic, lulling sussurration of cicadas filled the air from all directions.

First, they strolled together through a beautiful garden located behind the house, zigzagging their way through delightful, maze-like rows of green shrubbery. The path twisted and turned, leading them past bright medleys of delicate-looking bluebells, spectacularly hued orange lilies, and slender scarlet foxgloves that grew in clusters around the bases of white marble statues. Hummingbirds and butterflies flitted past their heads.

Along the way, he pointed out various things that held meaning to him. She was paying attention, she _was,_ but she couldn't stop sneaking side-long glances at him, to the point that he trailed off and hiked an inquisitive eyebrow.

"What?"

"You just – you seem so…." She struggled to think of the right word.

"Really, really, ridiculously good-looking?" he offered helpfully, sounding less than modest.

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "I was going to say young, I think. Or maybe innocent. Not a word I've ever associated with you."

"Well, believe it or not, even _I_ was young and innocent once."

Just then, they drew abreast of a tall rose bush that was in the throes of a mad, amorous blossoming. The blood-red roses were large and round as saucers, exhaling a warm, perfumed breath that saturated the air around them. He plucked one of the dew-kissed blooms and handed it carefully to her. She accepted the flower and brought it to her nose, inhaling its delicate fragrance.

As they rounded a corner and left behind the garden and the prolifically blooming rose bush, she heard an equine snort. A wooden fence came into view. Over it hung the long head of a lovely dark brown horse with huge soulful brown eyes. When Damon came near, she stretched her neck out and stamped a hoof eagerly.

"Lady, meet Elena." He pushed a hand through the horse's feathery black forelock. "Elena, meet Lady." The mare lipped at his shirt.

Elena beamed, enchanted. "She's gorgeous."

"Yes, she is." He was looking right at Elena.

Elena swayed in Damon's directions, gravitating towards him unintentionally. "She was yours?"

"She was all mine. Fastest little jumper for three counties over, and a canter so comfortable she'd rock you to sleep."

While he was singing her virtues, Lady aimed a covetous eye at the rose in Elena's hand. When Elena realized the horse's newly acquired target, she slipped the flower behind her back. Snorting, Lady went back to slobbering on her master. He gave the mare one last fond, gentle pat and reoffered his arm. "Shall we?"

"Yes," she replied with a smile.

They visited a few more spots around the property that had special meaning for him before eventually meandering their way back around to the front of the estate house.

The whole time, she couldn't stop marveling at the vividness of the dream world Damon had created. Everything about this place felt real, fooled her senses.

"This is seriously amazing!" she exclaimed, letting go of him and spinning in a circle, her skirt swishing around her. "You have to teach me how you did this."

"Anytime you want. Just say the word."

"Did you ever bring Ric here? This would've made the historian in him do a happy dance big time."

As soon as the question rolled off her tongue, she regretted it. Not because she wanted to avoid mentioning Ric, but because she hated to see how remote and guarded Damon's features became. It made him look more like the Damon she was used to.

"I've never brought anyone here," he told her sullenly.

It struck her anew how personal this dream vision was for him. He was giving her a front row seat to memories from his past that were more often than not painful and not easily spoken of.

She graced him with a compassionate look. "Thank you for letting me be the first."

He gestured toward the house and changed the subject. "Would you like to see inside? I think you'll really like my bedroom."

The playful waggled of his eyebrows made her giggle. She was tempted to accept, but at last said, with no small amount of regret, "Maybe later. Don't get me wrong, this is seriously incredible, and I really love seeing this part of you, but I'm confused. What exactly did you want to show me?"

His mouth twisted downwards. He ran an agitated hand through his hair. He turned and walked away. Stopped. Turned again and walked back.

"Say it." His voice was so dark and cold it startled her.

"What?"

"Say it," he demanded. "I know you want to. Just _say it_ , Elena."

She sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly, gazing up at him through a wealth of long black lashes, seeking some composure. She didn't find any. Accusations she hadn't realized she'd been harboring but that he'd nevertheless rightly sensed tumbled woefully from her lips. "How could you leave me? If you really loved me, how could you?"

Furrows appeared between the dark slashes of his eyebrows, and his hand came up like he meant to touch her face, but at the last second, he changed his mind and reached for the red rose he'd given her instead, prying it out of her grip. He twirled it, avoiding the pricking thorns. After a few rotations, he unexpectedly wrapped his fingers around the velvety soft bloom and squeezed it in his fist. He opened his hand. The crushed rose fell to the earth in a flurry of bruised petals. He directed his gaze to the spot on the dirt driveway where a carriage would have pulled up to disgorge its passengers.

"There. That's where I saw her for the first time. Katherine." He breathed her name like it had magical properties. "I loved her instantly, and it was real. My love for Katherine was always real. But for her, it was never more than a game. I should've walked away. The right thing to do all along was just to walk away. But I didn't, and she destroyed me."

Elena heard the agony in his voice, and her heart broke for him. What Katherine had done to Damon and his brother, inserting herself in their lives and heartlessly preying upon their youth and innocence, was monstrous. No one who really loved them could have treated them so.

"And you thought I was Katherine 2.0, playing more games with you."

"No," he was quick to deny, "you're nothing like her. She destroyed me, and you saved me. She took my humanity, and you gave it back to me. You're not Katherine, Elena. _I_ am."

She blinked. _Wait, what?_ "What're you talking about?"

He avoided her gaze. "I left you, because I don't want to ruin you like she ruined me. I couldn't live with myself."

"Look at me," she commanded softly. He did so, eyes reluctantly meeting hers. The anguish swimming in their guilt-stricken blue depths utterly shredded her. "I'm not psychic. I don't know what our futures will be, but I don't believe we're doomed to repeat the mistakes of our past. You're not Katherine. You're Damon Salvatore, and I'm Elena Gilbert. That's all. That's enough."

He didn't look like he believed her. "I'm so sorry I hurt you. Please forgive me. I just wanted to do right by you, Elena, but I don't know what that is anymore." His voice dropped in volume, and he sounded broken. Lost. "Tell me what to do."

Her mouth parted on a slightly audible inhale. This was it. He was asking her to make a choice, a choice that would determine whether or not he was a part of her future. Could she trust him? Could she trust in his love?

Only one way to find out. Gathering up her skirts, she whirled and started running.

For a moment, there was only the sound of her quickened breathing (running in an old-timey dress was hard work!) and the soles of her slippers slapping across the lawn. Then, the heavy thud of his boots resounded behind her. She laughed infectiously and increased her speed. The chase was on.

She sprinted back in the direction of the horse field, retracing the serpentine route they'd used earlier through the maze of manicured hedges. Once she'd successfully made it through the garden, she hurtled toward the wooden fence, and it only occurred to her at the last minute that the circumference of her hoop skirt was too wide to fit through the slats. And there was no way she could climb the fence in this awkward, bulky dress that definitely hampered her now human agility.

But she wasn't ready to stop running yet.

What the heck, she decided, it was an imaginary dress so who cared if it got all dirty and squashed? She went for it. Her upper body easily squeezed through the space between the second and third slats. With only a slight bit of strain and maneuvering, the rest of her hoop skirt popped through as well. She took off again, shedding her shoes as she raced across the pasture. Grass blades tickled the soles of her bare feet.

"Elena!" Damon called, vaulting over the fence with laughter in his voice. "Wait for me!"

Racing to the top of a gentle rise, she spun, laughing, and saw him dashing across the pasture after her. Since he didn't have to contend with a hoop skirt, he was rapidly catching up. With a shriek, she turned to keep running, but her skirt finally got the best of her. She tripped and tottered, unable to keep her balance, and tumbled down the other side of the hill. Luckily, it was a small hill and the fall was brief. She ended up on her back, skirt in disarray, the chase now over.

When Damon arrived on the scene only seconds later, she knew he was there before he came into view because he was laughing so hard. Such a rare sound, and she loved it.

However, she playfully pretended to be miffed. "Gee, I'm fine, thanks for asking."

He held out a hand and helped her back on her own two feet. "I'd never let anything happen to you here."

Hands going to her slender waist, he pulled her body tightly against his, soft curves molding against hard lines. The sun shone brilliantly in the bluest of skies directly overhead. They probably looked like they were posing for a romance novel cover shoot with her breasts swollen and heaving against him, the wind teasing their hair, and her mouth soft and parted and ready to be kissed.

Picking up on the whole 'ready to be kissed' vibe, his mouth descended until it was a mere hair's breadth from hers. "Is it too late? Have I ruined everything? Have I lost you forever?"

"No." She claimed his lips for a brief, sweet kiss. Then she drew back and poked him in the sternum. "But I swear if you ever pull something like that again…." She tried to come up with a threat dire enough.

"I won't." He rested his forehead on hers. "I don't know if I can be what you want me to be, but … I'll try."

Heart in her throat, she whispered, "All you have to do is choose me like I choose you. We'll figure out the rest together."

"Yes, Elena, yes, I will. Always." And then he kissed her with a passion that left her breathless and weak in the knees.

"Damon?" she managed to get out a few moments later.

"Hmm?" he answered distractedly while pressing light, ardent kisses to the corner of her mouth.

She backed up a step and tugged at the neckline of her bodice. "Now would be a good time to demonstrate the proper removal of one of these dresses. If you still remember," she teased.

"I remember," he assured her in a low, husky voice.

She shook her head ruefully. "Ugh, you're probably an expert at it." Her features became shy. " _Are_ you an expert at it?"

"Is that your sneaky way of asking if I was a man-whore _before_ I became a vampire?"

Blushing, she turned around. That's exactly what she'd been trying to find out.

"I'll have you know," he said and went about the task of unlacing her dress quickly and deftly, "that I was a model of decorum and discretion when I was a youth."

She snorted. "I find that hard to believe."

"There were exceptions. For instance, when little girls gave me sass, I bent them over my knee, no matter where we were, and gave them a thorough spanking."

Heat bloomed between her legs, and she gulped. "You did not." She meant to sound disbelieving. Instead, she sounded intrigued.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" His breath tickled the shell of her ear. "Naughty little girl."

She didn't know how to respond, except to say yes, and there was _no way_ she was going to admit that the very thought thrilled her, so she quickly brought up a new subject. "Was Katherine your first…you know?"

"No, but she was the first girl I ever really loved." He spun her back around, eyes snagging on her pretty pink lips. "And you're the last."

He sealed his vow with a kiss. With hands tender and sure, he pushed her dress down until it pooled around her legs. She wasn't wearing a corset or anything else underneath. Since Damon was in charge of this dream world, she was hardly surprised by that.

Shrugging off his suspenders, he pulled his shirt over his head and spread it on the hillside over a soft bed of grass. With the utmost care, he laid her gently on it. Her legs fell open, and he settled above her, fitting perfectly between them. The fabric of his pants was rough against the delicate, glistening flesh at the vee of her thighs, but in a way that sparked fire in her blood and melted her bones.

He caressed her all over while pouring kisses upon her neck, her shoulders, her arms, her breasts, and even lower, his lips warm like summer rain. She allowed herself to lie completely still, to revel in nothing but the exquisite adoration of his touch until her body ached and trembled with longing. Every now and then, a breathy murmur escaped her.

When he'd kissed his way back up her body, she grabbed his face and said, "Pants. Off. Now."

Laughing, he rolled onto his side to facilitate their removal. No longer content to be passive, she pounced on him. He landed on his back with an "Oomph!"

Once he'd recovered from her surprise attack, he grinned, looking incredibly pleased with their role reversal. It was in his nature to be a dominant lover and she liked that about him, but just now he seemed more than willing to cede the reins of control over to her, and she liked that, too.

Lying beneath her, his strong, lean, supple body framed by a carpet of lush grass and wildflowers, his blue eyes seemed even more piercing in his tanned face, the teeth revealed by his smile even whiter. He was easily the sexiest man she'd ever laid eyes on, no matter what century she found herself in. She wanted – _needed –_ to lick every inch of him, because if there had ever been anyone who deserved to be tongue-worshipped….

She started by kissing his neck, then leisurely descending down to his collar bone, savoring the salty tang of his skin, letting her nipples skim over his chest on her way down. Her tongue trailed over one of his nipples, moving on to the dip between his pecs, and then to the other nipple. More kisses down his stomach, where she licked her way unhurriedly along the ridges of his abs. His muscles danced and twitched under her progression.

Upon reaching his navel, her lips drifted down to the waistline of his pants. She nuzzled the silky black hairs of his goody trail, breaking into a smile when they tickled her nose.

He groaned again and arched his hips. She could take a hint. She sat up and worried the front of his pants where a raised bulge stretched the fabric to its limit.

"I don't know how to take your pants off," she finally conceded with a disappointed pout.

He swiftly undid them, freeing an erection that jutted proudly in her direction. It was long and thick, pulsing, eager for her touch. She curled her fingers around him and softly stroked and fondled. A gust of breath left him.

"Please, Elena," he ground out, "please, angel, please."

Hearing Damon beg filled her with a rush of power, a feminine glow of warmth. She loved knowing that she affected him as strongly as he affected her.

She bent down. For a moment, her breath fanned hotly over his engorged length, coaxing a shudder from him, and then the rosy wetness of her mouth closed around him. His breath hissed in, and he wound her hair around his palms. For several minutes, her tongue and lips and even the occasional gentle scrape of her teeth pleasured him, his raspy moans spurring her on. At one point, she darted her eyes upwards and saw that his features were strained, like he was caught in a tug of war between agony and ecstasy.

Abruptly, he detangled his fingers from her hair and grabbed her upper arms.

"Hey, I'm not done yet!" she protested as he hauled her up the length of his body.

"Yeah, well, I don't want to be done yet either."

His mouth was hot like a brand as he lifted his head off the ground and took one of her pearled nipples between his lips. With a gentle roll of his hips, his arousal brushed against her core, sliding through the wetness leaking between her legs. He arched under her a second time, another blissful rub. This time she felt the blunt tip probing impatiently, seeking entrance.

With a smile, she sat up and positioned herself directly above him. Damon trained his gaze on their point of contact as she sensuously, inch by inch, glided down, stretching to take him inside her as deeply as possible.

When he was completely ensconced in her silky heat, their eyes met, and they shared an intense moment. His eyes may have been the color of blue ice, but they held the heat of a thousand suns.

He whispered, "I love you, Elena. Good or bad, right or wrong, I love you."

"It's right." She clenched around him, and his head fell back to the ground. "For future reference, it'll always be right."

With his hands warm and steady on her hips and her hands braced on his chest, she undulated over him, each rise and fall slow and languid, as if in a dream. No sprinting to the finish line this time.

Her eyes slid shut, and her head fell back, heavy tresses streaming down her back. Her pace never changed or faltered, but the slow burn in her blood grew until every cell in her body was consumed by out-of-control wildfire. Soon, tiny contractions began rippling through her insides, a foretaste of what was to come, caressing his hard length and wringing insensible sounds from him. Hoarse sobs built up in her throat as pleasure unlike any she'd ever known built and built and promised to transport her straight into the heavens.

"Oh god, baby girl, I'm about to come." His voice had devolved into a hoarse growl.

Oh, god, so was she. She was going to explode. Stars flashed behind her eyelids -

Without warning, she was rudely jolted back to the present. Her eyes flew open and she inhaled sharply at the suddenness of it all. The dream vision had vanished, as ephemeral as morning mist. She and Damon were back on her front porch, holding hands on the swing. No trace remained of the young man he had once been or the wide-open horse pasture where they'd just been making love.

He cleared his throat and said sheepishly, "Sorry, you made me lose control."

She laughed, and they gazed at each other with matching smiles. The scene looked peaceful, but inside she was not peaceful at all. What had just occurred between them might not have been technically real, but it'd felt real, especially to her body, which was currently lit up like a sex-starved Christmas tree.

Plagued by the same frustrated desire, Damon leaned in until their lips touched. Their sweet, lingering kiss gradually deepened until they were thoroughly making out. Her arms went around his neck, fingers diving through his raven hair, while his hands roamed, pulling her in even closer.

"Going for a run, huh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Elena jerked away from Damon like his lips had suddenly morphed into red-hot coals and looked guiltily across at Jeremy. He was glaring at them from the front doorway. With a disgusted sound, he pivoted. He muttered, "Get a room," and stomped back into the house. The door slammed behind him with a loud bang.

Elena stared down into her lap. "That was embarrassing."

"He'll get over it." Damon reached over and took a hold of one of her hands. "Now what?" he asked quietly.

She'd been trying to figure out the same thing, and now she thought she finally knew the answer. "Now we start over," she told him. "A new beginning. A new us."

"A new us," he repeated, as if trying out the idea.

She nodded an affirmative. "We'll just go about our lives, and maybe one day we'll bump into each other around town. I'll just be a girl, and you'll just be a boy - "

"A _boy_?"

"A man," she corrected with a laugh, "and we'll see what happens. Maybe we'll go on a date or something. I mean, you know, assuming we're both interested."

"Hmm, I guess we'll find out." His eyelids grew heavy, and he did that sexy eye thing that drove her crazy.

Every molecule of oxygen chose that exact moment to vacate her lungs.

Just as he began to lean in for another kiss, she pressed a finger to his lips, holding him at bay. "But no sex."

He scowled.

She laughed. "Just at first. We'll take it slow, okay?"

A small smile replaced his frown. "Okay."

They sat in silence until he reluctantly observed, "I should probably go, then."

"Yeah." Honestly, she didn't want him to go, but if he stayed, they'd just end up making out some more, and that would inevitably lead to clothes coming off, and _that_ was bound to end only one way…. So, yeah, he should probably go. _Sigh_.

Giving her hand one last tender squeeze, he stood and walked away from her. He halted with his boot suspended above the second porch step and looked over. "See ya 'round?"

She smiled cutely. "You will."

He smiled the entire way to his car.


	12. Chapter 12

She knew he was there before she ever saw him. She paused briefly in her conversation with Matt to look over, instantly recognizing the customary arrogant stride, a predator confident in its environment. It wasn't a matter of wanting to look – she had to.

Just like she had to go to him. She made a lame excuse to Matt, some nonsense she forgot instantly, and crossed to the bar where he had claimed a seat.

Elena scooted out the chair next to him and slid into it. For a split second, her palms grew damp, and she experienced a twinge of uncertainty that maybe this was a mistake, that maybe they wouldn't work even if given a fair shot. The twinge evaporated like mist in direct sunlight when he slanted a look her way, blue eyes gleaming.

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Hey."

"Hey," Damon replied, looking far more sexy than anyone had a right to in a black leather jacket and jeans. He must have driven to the Mystic Grill with the top of his convertible down, because his midnight hair looked extra disheveled. She yearned to run her fingers through the silky strands.

"Fancy seeing you here," she commented, somehow managing to keep her hands to herself.

His mouth curved into the faintest of smiles. "Imagine that. Planning to hang around for awhile?"

"If you are."

"Can I buy you a drink?"

"I'd like that."

Once they received their drinks, she inquired, "Are you hungry?"

He grinned. "Famished."

She waved her hand until the bartender looked their way. "Can we get some menus, please?"

Damon leaned over. "Let me take you somewhere nicer than this."

She shook her head with a cheeky grin as the bartender slid some menus across the bar counter. "Next time," she said gathering them up. "Let's go grab a booth."

They found a booth in the rear of the restaurant and sat. Damon didn't even bother with the menu. He already knew everything it had to offer. Elena was also already familiar with the whole menu, but she pretended to peruse the laminated plastic just to give her nervous hands something to do.

He asked, "So, what's new since the last time I saw you?"

She set the menu down and drummed her fingers on the table top. "I've been looking into what I need to do to apply at Whitmore for next year."

"What else is there besides compelling the person in charge of admissions?"

"I want to at least try to get in the normal way." She dimpled cutely. "Then I'll compel whoever I have to."

"Well, good luck."

"Thanks, they have a really good medical program. Plus, Bonnie and Caroline are already there."

"Doctor Gilbert," he intoned, voice only lightly mocking.

She blushed. "Will you come visit me?"

"I can probably pencil you in."

Just then, the waiter appeared, so they ordered.

"So what's new with you?" Elena asked when the waiter had left.

He scowled. "Katherine's apparently living at the house now. That's … annoying."

"Why would she want to live somewhere where everyone hates her?"

"I'll give you one clue, and it begins with S and ends with –efan."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "Stefan?"

He nodded.

"I don't understand."

"She wants to have another go at Stefan, and given that I owed her for pretending to stake me - "

"Which," Elena cut in, "was a dirty, rotten trick, and if we weren't beginning anew right now, I'd still be mad at you about it."

He ducked his head, hiding a grin. " - I promised not to bad mouth her or otherwise actively try to discourage her efforts." He shrugged. "Easy enough. Stefan's got his big boy pants on, and he can make his own choices."

"But he wouldn't, right? Be with _her_ again?"

A faux-shudder rippled through his frame. "We can only hope not. Anyway, moral of the story is head's up if you come over. The devil herself has taken up residence. Personally, I'm hoping she gets bored soon and moves on. You know how prone to fickleness she is."

"Prone to fickleness? That's a generous way of putting it."

"I'm trying to be optimistic. It's this new leaf I'm turning over."

There was a few more minutes of chit-chat and then the food arrived. She had ordered a salad, while he got a hamburger. She stole some of his fries. They squabbled over who was going to pay. She'd insisted that they should at least split the check, to which he'd retorted something along the lines of, "Don't give me that feminist crap, I'm buying you dinner."

All in all, she was having a really, really good time and couldn't stop smiling. She didn't want tonight to end.

As he scrawled his autograph on the check, she remarked, "I was thinking maybe a post-dinner stroll around the square would be nice." She looked across at him through a veil of long lashes. "Wanna come?"

He nodded, and they stood and made their way out of the Grill and onto the square, pausing only briefly as he removed his jacket and deposited it in his car. Since the black t-shirt he wore underneath clung to him like a second skin, she had no complaints.

There were a few other cars and people moving about, but for the most part everything was quiet. They didn't hold hands, but they walked so closely that the backs of their hands brushed together frequently, which sent sparks of electricity skittering over the surface of her skin every time. They ambled slowly, but far too soon, they'd completed an entire circuit of the square and were back in front of the Mystic Grill.

To forestall the night from ending, she announced, "Let's do something crazy."

He tugged on a strand of hair framing her heart-shaped face. "I have just the thing. Wait here."

He walked away and entered the liquor store on the corner of the square, emerging shortly thereafter with a bottle of dessert wine in one hand and two wine glasses in the other.

"Pink moscato?" she teased. "Ooo, so crazy."

"Easy, I'm not done yet, smartass." With a jerk of his chin, he indicated that she should follow him. He led her to the base of the clock tower and spread his arms out wide like he was preparing to give her a crushing bear hug.

"Grab me."

"What?" She looked scandalized.

"Not like that." He winked. "Unless you want to. We're going up."

 _Oh!_ She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he smiled down at her. "Don't let go."

Suddenly, the ground fell away at a mind-boggling speed. She gasped and tightened her grip on him, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that he was jumping them to the top of the clock tower!

They landed lightly on the side of tower, right in front of the giant clock face. For a moment, she was too afraid to let go and look. Plus, she really liked being pressed up against him like this.

"You're safe. You can let go now," he told her softly.

"I said crazy, not suicidal!" she exclaimed.

"You'll be fine. It's not like the fall'd kill you anyway."

"Thanks, that's really comforting." She still refused to open her eyes.

"I promise that I won't let anything happen to you. Relax."

She trusted him to save her, she did, but the ledge they were on was _really_ narrow and just too tiny considering how far down the ground was, and though it was true she wouldn't permanently die if she fell, going splat would not qualify as a pleasant experience either, so she'd rather just avoid it all together.

But she couldn't just stay here clinging to him all night like this either. Or could she? Maybe …. no. _No_.

To soothe herself, she inhaled deeply his masculine scent of dark spices, letting it fill her and convince her that she wasn't alone, that if she got into trouble he'd do whatever it took to protect her. Her trembling limbs gently relaxed, responding further to his body heat, until she could unlock them from around his neck.

She shuffled backwards, chancing a look down. Humongous mistake. The ground was even farther away than she'd imagined. The hard, unforgiving, asphalty ground that would have no pity when her soft, tender body smashed into it.

Unruffled, Damon sat and started opening the bottle. It was one of those new screw cap kinds.

"You've obviously done this before?" she asked, the tiniest bit irked that he was so calm while she felt like freaking out.

"Once or twice." He patted the ledge beside him. "Come on, don't be a scaredy-cat."

Gingerly, she sat down, focusing on him instead of the insanely long fall that awaited her should she misstep. Yup, she was just going to pretend like she was somewhere else. Her legs were … dangling off one of the bleachers at school. Yes, that was better. Much safer and closer to the ground.

He filled the glasses and handed her one.

"Here, this'll take the edge off."

She took a trial sip. The Moscato was sweet and fruity as it went down, fizzy bubbles tickling the roof of her mouth. She took another sip and another. Finally, she grew brave enough to look out, though she remained careful not to look down. The height of the clock tower permitted her a bird's eye view of the businesses surrounding the town square and beyond to the neighborhoods brightened by street lights, a sharp contrast to dark, dense woods that surrounded them, all beneath a starry, moonless night sky.

As magnificent as the view was, her eyes scarcely lingered on it for a moment before being drawn to the darkly sensual man beside her. It amused her to no end to see him drinking the pink dessert wine, and it pleased her that he was doing it for her.

Her eyes wandered from the strong hand holding his wine glass to the underside of his forearm where the black ink of his tattoo stood out starkly, _HIC ET NUNC_ indelibly marked on his pale skin.

"Earth to Elena?"

She started. He was peering over at her, the hard lines and angles of his face backlit by the golden illumination of the clock face. She'd missed what he'd just said, so she blurted out, "How does a vampire even get a tattoo, anyway?"

"Why, you want one?"

"No, I just thought vampires would heal too quickly for one to stick."

"Have to know the right witch."

"And you do." She pursed her lips. No doubt he 'knew' this witch far more intimately than what was strictly necessary for the tattoo spell to work.

"Did. It was a long time ago."

"What if I wanted to get one?" She traced her finger over his tattoo, admiring the cords of steel that contracted at her touch.

"You don't really strike me as the tattoo-type."

"I said what if?"

"If that was what you wanted, I'd make it happen."

"You would do that for me?"

"I'm a giver."

She looked up from where her finger was idly stroking his arm. His eyes locked intently on her mouth, and for a moment she thought he meant to lean in and kiss her. She wanted him to. She would let him. But he turned away.

Disconcerted that she had misread the moment, she asked, "Wanna play a game?"

"A sexy game?"

"I don't know. Maybe? I found this earlier and saved it to my phone: Questions to Ask Your Crush."

A pair of black locks tumbled rebelliously across his forehead when he tilted his head. "Don't you think we're a little past the crush stage?"

"Hush, it'll be fun. We'll learn about each other."

"If you say so."

She took that as consent. "I'll go first, and then we can trade. First question: Which superhero would you be and why?"

"Wrong brother, Elena. I'm the villain, not the hero."

"It's a hypothetical. Can you just _try_ to play along?"

"Fine, I'd be Superman. He's the one who can see through walls and girls' clothes, right?"

She gave him a look. "Moving on. Next question. What's your worst habit?"

A roguish grin spread across his face. "Falling in love with my brother's girl."

She sighed exasperatedly and looked for a question that even Damon couldn't deflect with sarcasm. She found one. "What's your favorite cheese?"

"Okay, these are stupid. My turn." He snatched her phone out of her hand.

"Damon!"

With a swipe of his thumb, he started scrolling. "Ooo, here's a good one. When was the last time you had a sexy dream about me?"

"Oh my god, give that back!" She didn't remember that being one of the questions.

He held her phone out of reach. "Huh, that recently." He waved her away. "Okay, okay, I'll pick another one." Pretending to look through the questions, he asked, "Are you willing to try anal?"

"Damon!" Okay, that was definitely not one of the questions!

Eyes glinting with devilry, he said, "What? I'm trying to learn about you." He finally allowed her to recover her phone.

She shoved it into her back pocket. "You're completely impossible. How does anyone put up with you?"

He smirked. "It's the charm and witty banter. Plus, I'm adorable. I'm like a charming, witty, adorable puppy."

"So, not like a puppy at all."

He paused to consider. "Well, I _am_ adorable."

She dramatically lifted her eyes skyward, pretending to seek patience. "What you are is ridiculous."

"And adorable."

She couldn't stifle her smile.

As they put the kibosh on the wine bottle, they laughed and joked until their glasses were empty. She rested her head on his shoulder, and they lapsed into a companionable silence. Or what she thought was a companionable silence. When she peeked up at him, he appeared troubled, brows drawn together like ominous black storm clouds. That never boded well.

"Uh-oh," she said, "I thought we were having a good first date. Are we not having a good first date?"

He attempted to give her a reassuring smile but failed miserably. "No, we are."

"Then why are you making the same face you make when you've just realized you're out of bourbon?"

"It's nothing, Elena, really."

Clearly, he wanted her to drop it, but she persisted. "Damon, we have to be honest with each other from now on, or we're just going to end up right back where we were. Whatever it is, you can tell me."

He emptied his lungs with a great gust of air. "Okay. Honesty. Then you need to know everything, in order for us to truly start over. You need to know how selfish I really am."

He paused for so long that she thought perhaps he wasn't going to finish. When he did continue, he sounded almost angry. "I should regret the night we first met, because what I did was wrong. Your first time should've been with someone you loved, someone who'd romance you and take your virginity on top of silk sheets covered in rose petals and rainbow sparkles. But it wasn't, it was with me, and I'm glad." The set of his jaw signaled defiance, daring her to see him for what he truly was. "I'm not sorry."

Was he really worried that she would think any differently of him? She shrugged. "Fine, then I'm not sorry either. I'm not sorry that my first time _was_ with someone I love. Maybe he could've mentioned it sooner, but I think he's learned his lesson."

The interplay of emotions that swirled across his face was too chaotic for her to interpret. "I should've told you about the night we first met, you deserved to know, but I was so afraid of losing you."

"You didn't lose me," she assured him.

"But I did lose your trust." He took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly. "I want you to know that I'm going to do whatever it takes to convince you that I will never hurt you again."

"You can't keep a promise like that," she rebuffed him gently.

"I'm not talking about hurting your feelings during some dumb argument. I'm talking about your heart, Elena. I'll prove to you that it's safe with me."

Good, because her heart was his, whether he wanted it or not. "And I'll do the same," she vowed along with him.

He smiled softly and looked down. Following his gaze down to their entwined hands, she marveled at the smallness of hers in his and tightened her grip. She didn't want to let go. She still wasn't ready for tonight to be over yet.

"We never had any dessert," she observed. "Want to get some ice cream? It's a fact that ice cream only has calories when you eat it by yourself. If you eat it with someone, it has zero calories. I mean, I know we're vampires, so calorie-counting is kind of pointless, but that's what I used to say when I was human. Anyway, want to get some ice cream?"

He opened his mouth to reply just as the lights on the ice cream store front shut off.

"Oh, what, no," she said, "it's not that late! It's only - " she pulled her phone out again for a quick glance " – ten o'clock. Boo." She pouted.

"If you want some ice cream, I'll get you some ice cream," he promised her.

"If I remember correctly, there's some chocolate ice cream in the freezer at your house."

"Oh?"

She continued, "And I don't know if you've noticed, but while you were MIA last year, Stefan had Netflix put on all the TVs."

"Then maybe we should go back to my place and watch a movie and eat ice cream."

She smiled. "Maybe I would like that very much."

He stood and helped her up. "Let's get out of here before someone calls the police and Liz has to come out and request that I go play Batman somewhere else."

She laughed. "You've definitely done this before."

He grinned. "Once or twice."

"Race you!" she challenged.

Closing her eyes, she stepped off the ledge, holding her arms out like wings. Only they weren't, so she plummeted straight down off the clock tower.

She landed on her feet, surprisingly in one piece. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up. He was still standing on the clock tower ledge far above her.

"Who's the scaredy-cat now?" she called.

"I'm being a gentleman and giving you a head start."

Her eyes narrowed at his cockiness. She was so gonna kick his ass. Without another word, she zoomed off in the direction of the boarding house. Her vampire speed and endurance were exhilarating. She felt like a well-oiled machine, like she could run forever and never get tired.

Within minutes, she arrived at his house. At no point did she observe him passing her.

Nevertheless, she encountered him posted up against the stone wall bordering the driveway opposite the front door.

"I was about to send out a search party. Thought you got lost," he drawled, eyes hooded so that he almost appeared to be sleepy, "or eaten by a bear."

"You are so not funny." She stalked past him into the house, affecting an air of great dignity. He followed, shutting the door behind him.

"Oh, come on, I'm a little funny."

Giddy with adrenaline and desire and pink Moscato, she developed the wild impulse to kiss him senseless. She decided to go with it and spun, leaping into his arms, catching him completely off-guard. Her weight drove him into a side table, where something fragile and probably valuable crashed to the floor and shattered. She pressed her mouth against his in a voracious kiss. He tasted tangy and dangerous and delicious, and she'd never get enough of it or of him. She knew this with every fiber of her being.

Her hands were already rucking up his shirt, trying to figure out the best, aka fastest, way to get him out of his clothes. She wanted to have sex with him right here in the entry way.

He tried to speak, which was hampered by the fact that she didn't want to give his tongue back.

"I thought – mmm – that you wanted – mmm – to take things – _mmm_ \- slow."

His words had the effect of puncturing her hazy bubble of lust. She drew back and regarded him suspiciously, not appreciating his uncharacteristic restraint. "How come you're being so well-behaved? You never listen to anything I say."

He nipped her bottom lip. "Our first time this time should be special. I want that for you."

Looking into his blue, blue eyes, shining with crystalline sincerity, her heart melted into an ooey, gooey puddle right along with her panties. He wanted to wait so he could make their first time this time special. That only made her want him even more! Life was so unfair.

She reluctantly released him. "Since you put it like that …."

"Go upstairs," he said, wearing a lazy smile. "Pick out whatever movie you want. I'll be right there."

She flashed upstairs and jumped onto his bed, making herself a cozy spot by plumping up a few pillows and resting against them on the headboard. She scrolled through the movie choices on Netflix and selected something scary. It was queued up and ready to go when he joined her, settling beside her with a carton of ice cream in hand and two spoons.

They watched, idly scooping chocolate ice cream into their mouths, but Elena was much more interested in the hot man next her than the movie. As the movie went on, she found herself somehow getting closer and closer to him until she ended up completely snuggled into his side, leg thrown over his, arm resting across his hard stomach. It was a complete mystery how that happened.

"You don't like the movie?" His mouth was inches from her temple, his fingers combing through the dark silhouette of her long hair.

"No, it's not that," she quickly assured him. "I was just thinking."

"Thinking? If you're not watching the movie, then we should be making out." He muted the TV and removed the ice cream from his lap, setting it next to him on the bed. "Care to share?"

She didn't respond at first, then, working up her nerve, inquired tentatively, "Can I ask you a question about the night we first met?"

She felt his stomach muscles tighten. "I guess."

"Was I … was it any good?"

He burst out in surprised laughter. "What?"

A blush stole across her cheeks, staining them a delicate pink. "Don't laugh."

"I can't help it. That has got to be the dumbest question I've ever heard. But to answer it, no, you weren't good. You were fucking amazing. Your sex literally changed the trajectory of my life."

She liked his answer. A lot. She circled his navel with an index finger, bunching up the soft cotton of his shirt so that a strip of pale abdomen was revealed. "Since we're being honest with each other, can I tell you a secret?"

"Please do."

"I like it when you're … rough." Her gaze flicked up to catch his reaction.

His eyes widened theatrically. "I am shocked! And I need details."

"I just mean I don't want you to hold back with me. Ever." She bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

His tongue darted out to lick away the beads of crimson. "Duly noted."

She crawled on top of him, gluing their mouths together. His hands roamed down her back, while she went straight for his belt buckle. He grunted and flipped her under him. Her legs closed around his lean waist, and she wiggled provocatively against him.

"Mmm, no sex, remember?" he teased even while gently grinding his hard-on right where she throbbed and ached.

She scrunched her face up in frustration. "Who came up with that stupid rule?" Her nails raked down his back, rending his shirt and gouging bloody streaks in his flesh, the muscles trembling and flexing.

"Ah, fuck, you little hellcat," he hissed, "that was your call, not mine. But just because we're taking things slow doesn't mean we can't still play."

The low, velvet timbre of his voice sent shivers everywhere.

"I hope you're planning to enlighten me," she whispered.

She didn't even see him move, so she had no idea where the scarf came from. One moment he was on top of her, the next he was binding her wrists together with a black silk scarf. Her heart leapt in her chest like a spooked rabbit, and she tried to pull free, but he was too strong. He raised her tied hands above her head and secured the ends of the scarf to his headboard, allowing only the slightest bend in her elbows.

She resisted until the cool silk bit into her skin, but not enough to actually get loose. Had she wanted to, she could've escaped in an instant using her enhanced strength, but she didn't want to. Rather, the illusion of helplessness, of being utterly at his mercy, sent a surge of lust pounding dizzily through her.

She licked her lips. "What are you going to do?"

His nostrils flared, took in the scent of her arousal. "Isn't it obvious? Whatever I want." A sly smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his eyes were full of languid, sensual promise. "But no sex. No matter how much you beg for it."

Oh, god, he was going to torture her! Why was she looking forward to it so much?

A shuddering breath lifted her breasts and drew his appreciative gaze. He slipped a finger beneath the neckline of her tank top, dragging it down until a dusky pink nipple was bared, puckered tight and flaunting itself just for him. He gave the pebbled tip a pinch, a slight tweak that jolted her, then reached over and dipped a finger through the melting remnants of the chocolate ice cream.

His smile was downright wicked as his ice cream covered finger rose and hovered above her breast. Before she was ready, he used the pad of his finger to paint an icy circle around her nipple. The freezing sensation on her heated flesh stole her breath away and tightened her nipples into even harder points, which hadn't seemed possible until now. He followed up the cruel, cold touch of his finger with the molten heat of his mouth. Every hard suck of his lips sent spears of desire straight to her groin.

"This ice cream is amazing," he murmured.

She tried to reach down and touch him, forgetting that she could not. A frustrated whimper escaped her.

Still licking and nuzzling her breast mercilessly, he reached over to pull the rest of her shirt down, thereby exposing her other breast to his attentions as well. But, changing his mind, he sat up and instead ripped her shirt down the middle.

"I'll buy you a new one," he promised, "I'll buy you a hundred new ones."

He again dipped his finger in the ice cream and circled her other nipple, a wet chill that made a shiver ripple along the surface of her skin, tiny bumps Damon tracked with his gaze. He licked away the chocolate, tongue swirling over the area.

Rechristening his finger with more ice cream, he then firmly smeared a straight line down her flat stomach to her navel. He followed the trail with the velvet tip of his tongue, taking his sweet time, making sure he laved up every speck of chocolatey goodness.

Just when she didn't think she could stand anymore, her body overwhelmingly tight and needy with arousal, he flicked the button of her jeans undone, the suddenness of the movement making her jump. He put ice cream on his finger one more time and slid back up her body. He placed his fingertip on her lips, tap, tap, tapping. Her tongue darted out and swirled around his finger, then retreated, a dance to draw him in. Enticed, his finger slipped between her parted lips. She suckled his finger until it was completely clean.

With an almost inaudible groan, he withdrew from her mouth and sent his hand south, slipping under her panties and discovering hot, slick flesh. She was already so wet for him and only getting wetter. Her thighs opened, and he pressed a finger into her. A second digit soon followed.

Those clever fingers of his paused here and there to explore fully, alternately picking up speed and then vacillating, expertly delivering her right to the edge before retreating and denying her release.

She strained and twisted, held captive not by the silk scarf around her wrists but by what he was doing to her, what he was making her feel. He was driving her mad with desire, but it was also more than that. No one had ever touched her body or her heart the way that Damon had.

His lips peeled back, and she barely had time to register the deadly sharp, white fangs filling his mouth before he used them to pierce the gentle swell of her breast, his bite half playful – half savage. She groaned and tried to arch simultaneously into his mouth and into the hand cupping her sweet spot.

"Please, Damon, please, I need more …. I need ….."

"What, angel? What do you need?" he whispered against her breast.

She wanted him to take her, to join with her, to sheathe himself in her so deeply that it was impossible to tell where one began and the other ended. She craved his heat and strength and the pleasure only he could give her.

"You! I need you."

His eyes flared, darkened with arousal, and the motion of his hand sped up, working and teasing, sliding through slippery, warm velvet. "Not yet. Soon."

"Please, Damon, I'll do anything. Whatever you want." Her hips bucked, needing more, needing him, needing anything that would relieve her of this unbearable pressure swelling up inside.

"What I want is for you to come. Right now."

His palm ground down, giving her exactly the rhythm and pressure she needed to be swept away by rolling waves of sweet sensation. He kissed her warm, yielding mouth, swallowing his name as she gasped it out. Her orgasm went on and on, and he continued to play with her until every last bit of pleasure had vibrated through her.

When it was finally over, when every inch of her felt spectacularly satisfied and drained, she was fairly certain she'd never be able to move again. She hoped he wasn't expecting her to leave any time soon. Her plan for the foreseeable future was to just lie here and bask in the golden orgasmic glow he'd given her.

He withdrew his hand from her panties and stuck both fingers in his mouth. "Mmm, lucky me, my girl's sweeter than chocolate."

A happy smile spread across her face. He'd called her his girl.

"You – you're an evil, evil man," she whispered as he untied her and massaged her wrists using a soothing circular motion with his thumbs.

With a laugh, he clasped her in his arms, tucking her against him, and pressed his face into the crook of her neck. "It's about time you figured that out."

As her breathing slowly resumed a more even rhythm, it dawned on her that something was very wrong with this picture. Her clothes were all askew and ripped asunder, while he was still completely dressed! Too caught up in her own erotic response, she'd neglected him.

"What about you?" she asked.

She felt his eyelashes softly brush her neck as he blinked. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"Damon, I can feel that you're not fine." She wiggled her bottom pointedly against the formidable bulge thrusting between her cheeks.

"Just stay here with me." His warm breath stirred the hairs at her nape. "Let me hold you."

She lay quietly in his arms for a good while until she couldn't resist wiggling her bottom against him again.

He growled, "Careful, little girl. You're seriously testing my restraint, and we both know it's not all that great to begin with."

A worrisome thought occurred to her. "You're not going to take things too slowly, right?"

"Not too slowly," he reassured her, pressing his lips to her throat.

"Good. I love you," she whispered.

Maybe it was too early to say that yet, but she didn't care. She needed him to know how she felt. Everything that had gone wrong between them could've been avoided if they'd just been honest with themselves and with each other.

"I love you, too," he whispered back.

She fell asleep like that, cradled in the safety and comfort of Damon's arms, lost amongst blissful dreams, and a piece of her heart that had been missing for so long drifted lightly as a feather back into place right where it belonged.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Friday Night**_

Elena roused from sleep when the Camaro rolled to a stop, gravel crunching under its wheels. She raised her head from Damon's shoulder and blinked drowsily.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep." Reaching up and pulling down the visor mirror, she patted vaguely at her hair, checking self-consciously for errant strands or tangles.

"Not even close to a problem," Damon said. "Your snoring is adorable."

"I do not snore!"

Her feigned pique faded when she looked around and realized where they were: her family's lake house. The front porch lights were on, and a fresh stack of firewood lay piled beside the door.

Jeez, she must have been asleep for a lot longer than she'd thought. They were driving back from Richmond – that's right, he'd taken her to the big city to see the Richmond Ballet perform, and it was amazing – which was more than an hour drive from Mystic Falls. Nowhere near her family's lake house.

"What're we doing here? I thought you were taking me home."

His teeth flashed white in the darkness. "The fun's not over yet. In fact, our romantic weekend is just beginning."

"Really? Just you and me? All weekend?" Excitement coursed through her at the thought of so much uninterrupted alone time with him. Surely now they would finally get to end the interminable waiting he was infuriatingly, endearingly determined to uphold. Every time they were together, she craved him so badly, but he somehow always found the strength to stop them just before things went too far. Sure, he'd tease and play with her, give her brain-melting orgasms, but it wasn't the same. And he knew it, the sweet, sexy jerk.

The glint in his eye indicated that he knew exactly where her thoughts lay. "Really. Just you and me. All weekend."

A smile broke out on her face even as a cloud crept across her thoughts. "But I don't have the key with me. Or any spare clothes."

"You don't need to worry about a thing. It's all been taken care of."

He got out, walked to the passenger side, and opened the door for her. Though it was dark out and shadows roamed the hollows of his face, she sensed his admiring gaze as she unfolded herself from his car. She was dressed up for a night out on the town in a small black dress that left no curve to the imagination and fell to mid-thigh, emphasizing the long, toned lines of her tan legs. Her hair hung straight and glossy down her back. Three inch heels and a silver locket completed her look.

She had barely managed to fully stand when he pulled her into his arms and slanted full, sculpted lips over hers. As the earth tilted crazily under her feet, she made a soft, yielding sound and melted against him, hands sliding up the silken material of his black button-down shirt stretched tightly over hard back muscles.

Strong fingers caressed the curve of her hip. She felt each one of his words as a soft puff of warm air on her cheek. "Besides, you already know you don't really need any clothes since I plan on keeping you naked the whole time."

Her pulse quickened and her insides dissolved like sun-warmed honey, though she gave him _a look_ as well as a rueful shake of her head.

"Don't worry," he assured her, "I'll be naked, too."

"What am I going to do with you?" she asked. The question was mostly rhetorical.

His answering smirk was as wicked and mischievous as any devil's. "Are you taking suggestions?"

When she laughed, he took her hand and led her toward the lake house. He let her in first and flicked on the lights, so that the cabin filled with dim, amber light.

This was her first time here since … well, it had been a really long time. Since before she was a vampire. Everything looked exactly the way she remembered it … until he ushered her into kitchen area.

Drawing the eye immediately was an impressive bouquet of bright red roses in full bloom arranged in a crystal vase on the counter top. She estimated there must be at least two dozen flowers. Next to them, less noticeable, was a long, dark blue jewelry box.

His hand came to rest on the small of her back, and he gave her a gentle nudge, indicating that it was for her, that she should open it.

Butterflies quivering excitedly in her stomach, she went to the counter and picked up the jewelry box, ran a finger over the soft velvet covering it. She could feel his expectant gaze on her as she slowly lifted the lid. She gasped softly. She wasn't entirely sure what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. Nestled inside was a single strand of perfectly round, iridescent pink pearls that shimmered even in the low, amber lights. Below the necklace were matching pink pearl earrings and a bracelet.

"Do you like it?" he prompted.

She glanced up. "Yes, thank you so much, I love it!" Turning, she swept her hair aside, out of the way. "Do you mind?"

"Of course not."

Moving up behind her, he undid her locket and fastened the pearls around her throat, fingertips brushing lightly across her nape like feathers from a dark angel's wing.

When he was done, she turned back around and repeated, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me too much. This is purely a selfish gift on my part."

"Why do you say that?"

His lips twitched. "You'll see. Something to look forward to. Hope you like pad Thai?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," she stammered out, startled by the abrupt change in subject.

"Shrimp?"

"Sure, that sounds great."

"Then give me thirty minutes to whip some up. But first…." He handed her a wine glass full of blood. It smelled so good, and she took a sip.

The taste made her frown in puzzlement. Not because she detected the bite of alcohol. That was expected. No, there was something else. She took another larger swallow. Was that … cinnamon? And cloves? And dare she say … vanilla? "Did you add spices to this?"

"Just a little zest. Good, isn't it?"

She gulped down almost half the glass. It filled her belly with a pleasing warmth. "Yum, it _is_ good."

"Well, there's plenty more, so drink up." He began dicing garlic on a cutting board, knife flashing in the low light. Other ingredients waited nearby.

"I'm going to go freshen up a bit," she told him, setting her glass down beside the rose-filled vase.

He nodded and smiled agreeably.

She made her way to the downstairs bathroom and exchanged her earrings for the ones he'd just given her. She also put on the pearl bracelet. Then, she spent a moment admiring her new jewelry in the mirror. The shimmery pink color truly complimented the warm brown of her skin.

When she emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, she could hear him still slicing and preparing, so she figured she had a little bit of time before he missed her. She decided to take a quick detour upstairs, intending to put her old jewelry away before it got accidentally misplaced.

She opened her bedroom door and stopped in surprise. Her bedroom had been converted into a lover's dream. A multitude of candles waiting to be lit adorned every blank surface: her dresser, her nightstand, the window ledge.

Except for her bed. There were no candles on her bed. Instead, the comforter was drawn back, revealing white silk sheets and an abundance of rose petals sprinkled liberally atop them.

A vision of their naked bodies moving and straining together as candlelight flickered and the sweet scent of roses floated all around them flew unbidden before her mind's eye.

It made butterflies in her stomach flutter with delight. He was truly putting forth an effort to please her even though he didn't need to – she would sleep with him without all this, and he knew that. Her heart swelled with so much love, she put a hand over her chest to keep it from bursting.

On shaky legs, she walked over to her dresser and cleared a small space on top to set her jewelry down. Operating on a hunch, she opened the top drawer. He had oh so thoughtfully filled it with all manner of sexy lingerie. She looked through the selection, exploratory fingers drifting over the tiny scraps of satiny material.

There were your standard lacy bras and thongs that revealed more than they hid all the way up to something that didn't seem to be anything but thin black leather straps, and she couldn't even begin to make heads nor tails of it. Undoubtedly, he'd be happy to help her figure it out how to wear it - and then how to take it off.

She pulled open a second drawer. Inside she found multiple sexy costumes. Let's see, he'd picked out a nurse's outfit – not a very practical one; a cheerleading uniform – she didn't remember her uniform from high school being that skimpy; and even a kitty-cat ensemble – which mostly consisted of a headband with ears, a long slinky tail, and not much else.

She closed the drawers with a grin. Beside herself with anticipation, she returned downstairs. An Italian love song now filtered through the cabin. A newly lit fire crackled invitingly in the fireplace. Damon was whistling slightly off key to the music while stirring rice noodles in a pot on the stove, back turned to her. The spice-laden scent of pad Thai permeated the air.

She went to him. His arm shot out and hooked around her middle, tugging her into his side. He nuzzled her hair.

She smiled tenderly, radiantly. "Somebody's certainly gone to a lot of effort creating a romantic mood."

"That's because somebody's getting laid tonight. Play your cards right, and it might be you." He set his teeth on her throat and nipped gently.

She giggled and turned into him, twining her arms around his neck. "It better be me. I'll even dress up as a sexy kitty cat for you." Another giggle bubbled forth. "I had no idea that was your secret fetish."

He leaned in, mouth floating just above hers. " _You_ are my fetish, Elena," he murmured, "and there's nothing secret about it." Then, he kissed her slowly, sweetly. Their lips parted slightly so that they were breathing each other's air. Her fingers toyed with the thick, silky ends of his hair, black as night itself, curling just above his collar. Some people might think his hair was a bit too long, but she thought it was just right.

He ended the kiss and drew back with a small, panty-melting smile. His hands rose to cradle her face, thumbs resting gently on the fine bones of her cheek, fingertips soft on the line of her jaw.

"Everything upstairs is completely optional," he informed her in a low voice. "I didn't know what would appeal to you, so I got a little bit of everything. This weekend is all about you. I just want you to have fun and do whatever makes you feel comfortable." His thumb shifted from her cheek, caressed her lush, pink bottom lip. "In fact, I only have one teeny tiny request."

She raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "What would that be?"

"At least once, I want to fuck you in nothing but these pearls. I want you on top, riding me hard, so I can watch them bounce."

Though he'd framed it as a request, his statement came out sounding more like an unequivocal declaration of intent.

Her mouth went completely dry as the minuscule amount of space between them crackled like the thick, charged air before a storm. So that's why he'd claimed her necklace was really a selfish gift on his part. He wanted to watch … while she …. _Gulp._

He reached down and fingered one of the large individual pink pearls lying just above the swell of her cleavage, then let it drop, light and cool on her flushed skin. Releasing her face, he turned with fluid grace back to the stove and stirred some shrimp and vegetables sizzling in a pan.

"Can I do anything to help?" she offered. She was a terrible cook, but she could handle the basics like boiling water.

"Nope, just sit your sexy little ass down over there." He pointed to the table with his spatula.

She dropped into a seat, still vibrating from his nearness and helplessly aroused. Her hand went to the pearls around her neck and clutched them tightly, remembering his request.

Not long after, he served her a heaping plate of pad Thai and noodles, and it was delicious. For dessert, they shared a generous slice of chocolate cake. Watching him eat, the way his lips curled around his fork and his tongue cleaned the icing from the tines, was a form of foreplay in and of itself.

He saved the last bite for her. When they were finished, he stood and reached for her plate.

She objected quickly, "You cooked. I'll clean."

"Nope." He whisked the plate out of her grasp and headed for the sink.

She sat there indecisively for a moment, then made up her mind. "I'll be right back."

"Uh, okay," she heard him agree as she rose to her feet.

She raced upstairs to her room. Time to light a fire under him and drastically speed things up. All day long, since the moment he'd picked her up from her house to take her to see the ballet, her body had been acutely, almost painfully aware of his, and she didn't think she could stand another minute with so much unbearable, unresolved sexual tension filling the air between them.

She knew that he meant for tonight to be tender and romantic, had no doubt planned everything out carefully in advance, intending to take his time and love her thoroughly and sweetly – and don't get her wrong, she appreciated the thought, but she wanted none of it. Not right now. Not yet.

Sifting through her dresser drawers, she searched for something sexy, something that would make Damon lose his mind, and she found it.

She removed her dress and put on a pink & black lace bra, a matching lacy thong, and a black garter belt with thigh-high sheer silk stockings. Unsurprisingly, he'd gotten her measurements exactly right. When combined with her high heels and pink pearls, she looked like quite the bombshell.

Or at least, she hoped she did.

Since there was no way for her to sneak back down without him hearing, she boldly descended, heels clicking on the stairs. She tried to contain the nervous flush – what if he didn't like it, or he laughed? – creeping up her neck, but to no avail. It advanced across her face relentlessly, and she could only pray that she didn't look all splotchy.

The kitchen area came into view. He was facing away from her, looking like total girl porn as he finished up the last of the dishes and placed them into the dishwasher. Lithe muscles shifted and contracted visibly beneath his button-down shirt as he worked.

Finally turning in her direction, he froze in the act of drying his hands on a towel. She heard his heart stutter, then start knocking madly against his ribs, the sound of it resonating in her ears and boosting her confidence.

She offered him a timid smile and performed a pirouette, just to make sure he could see everything that she was – and wasn't - wearing. "You like?"

Very deliberately, he set the hand towel down on the counter. His nostrils flared and his head canted a few degrees to the left. He raked her with a predatory gaze that made the fine hairs on her neck stand up straight and alarm bells in her mind start ringing. Her nipples hardened to points, and her stomach knotted.

"Run," he commanded, imbuing that one word with a dark, sexual urgency that caused something in her to thrill and rise in kind.

Pivoting, she fled back the way she'd come, faster than the wind. She made it to the top of the stairs before a force tackled her from behind. As she hurtled toward the ground at breakneck speed, steely arms banded around her midsection, twisting her in midair so that he ended up beneath her, sparing her the brunt of the fall. Once they hit the ground, he rolled on top of her with lightning quickness.

An amused sound rumbled deep in his throat. A crooked smirk stretched his lips. "You didn't really think I'd let you escape."

For a few heartbeats, she didn't say anything, just basked in the feel of his body stretched over hers, reminiscent of a sleek panther pinning down a quivering doe. The dark, exotic, spicy scent of his skin was a sinful aphrodisiac, drugging her senses and making it hard to think.

Swept up in a primitive desire so overwhelming it shocked her, she gathered her wits as best she could and fixed him with a sultry look that wiped the smirk right off his face. "You didn't really think I was trying to escape."

He glanced up, calculating how quickly he could get them from the hallway floor to the bedroom. It didn't matter. Whatever the answer was, it was too long.

"Damon," she whispered urgently.

His eyes found hers again. They were slightly wild, pupils blown so that only a thin rim of blue was visible.

She begged, "Please."

Incredulous wrinkles furrowed his brow. "Right here?"

She bit her lip and nodded, sliding her hands down his back, feeling all of the barely restrained power trembling through taut muscles. "Hurry."

There was a second of inaction as he absorbed her request. Then his mouth slammed down on hers. Possessing not even an ounce of finesse, he shoved his fingers under her lacy thong and ripped it off, tossing the tattered remnants away in the same instant that she unfastened his jeans and plunged a hand inside, grabbing a hold of his rigid arousal. He burned like hot velvet in her palm.

Good, he was primed and ready to go. So was she.

Swiftly, she guided him to the right place, and with one powerful flex of his hips, he was inside her. The way he felt buried so deep, filling every inch of her to the brim, was so divine, so perfect she almost wept with relief. She did moan in ecstasy and wrap her stocking-clad legs around his waist so he couldn't escape, though judging by appearances, escape was the furthest thing from his mind.

"Is this what you needed, baby girl?" His voice was low and aggressive.

"Yes," she chanted, "yes, yes, yes." Frantically, she yanked at his clothes, his hair, anything that might induce him to start moving.

His hips flexed again, plunging once more into achingly swollen flesh, and that was all it took. Intense pleasure consumed her senses, left her gasping.

He powered right on through her climax, setting a hard, pounding rhythm as her body arched helplessly under his, pearls bouncing madly above her breasts.

She grasped the contours of his rock-hard ass, angling her hips, rolling to meet and cushion his thrusts. She felt the carpet runner rucking up beneath them as every vigorous plunge scooted them further down the hall. When he had driven them almost into a wall, he placed a protective hand on her nape, pulling her face into his shoulder so she wouldn't bump her head.

This put her in dangerous proximity to the blood speeding by under his skin, an irresistible temptation. Her eyes grew hot as they filled with blood, and her fangs punctured through her gums. Without a moment's hesitation, she bit into the meat of his shoulder, right through his shirt, seeking and finding a vein. Passion-fired blood spurted rich and coppery into her mouth.

"Sweet, beautiful girl," he rasped as his blood slid down her throat like crimson silk, "you feel so fucking good. So." He thrust hard to accentuate his words. "Fucking." Another hard thrust. " _Perfect_."

She knew exactly what he meant. Nothing had ever felt better than this. She loved being the focus of all his passion. Loved making him lose control.

It was so good that once more, she found herself hovering on the edge, so close that she only required the tiniest little nudge….

Retracting her fangs from his shoulder, she panted in his ear with bloodstained lips, "More. I want more."

He growled and pumped his hips with greater fervency, hitting her right where she needed him to. Her soul cried out in exhilaration as an unbelievable rush of euphoria swirled through her.

That also marked the limit of his endurance. He buried himself in her to the hilt a final time and gasped out, " _Elena_."

Once he was spent, he collapsed bonelessly on top of her. For a short while, they lay tangled together in a disheveled stupor of satisfaction, the only sounds their ragged breaths, pounding hearts, and the husky crooning of an Italian singer. She cherished every second of it.

Too soon, she felt him shift and raise his head. He stared down at her with a dazed look. A single, chagrined laugh escaped him. "This went very differently in my head." Gently, he straightened the pearls hanging in a haphazard line across the slender column of her throat. "You just looked so goddamn sexy. You make me completely insane."

She released a sigh because he was so adorable. Couldn't he tell that she didn't have a single regret because what had just happened between them was so beyond perfect that words didn't even exist to describe how perfect she felt right now?

"Don't you dare say you're sorry," she warned. "I'm not. After all, we do have all weekend to try again. And again. And again. However long it takes."

He pressed a kiss on the tip of her nose and grinned. "I like you a lot."

Then, he rose to his feet with her clasped tightly in his arms and bee lined for her bedroom. As she shrieked with laughter, they tumbled into bed together on top of white silk sheets and scattered rose petals, and this time when they made love, it was every bit as tender and romantic as a girl could ever dream of.

* * *

 _ **Sunday Morning**_

She achieved consciousness peacefully. Long, shiny lashes fluttered, then lifted. She was wrapped in warm, snugly blankets, and the snow white silk sheets and pillow made her feel like she was floating peacefully on a heavenly cloud.

That was appropriate since this weekend had certainly felt like paradise. They'd made love in almost every single room - even the deck. Couldn't forget deck-sex. She highly recommended it.

They'd also made love while skinny-dipping in the lake, clinging together in the wan light of the moon.

He'd even gotten his chance to make love to her in nothing but pink pearls.

She'd modeled several fun and sexy outfits for him, including the sexy kitty one. And even though at first she'd felt kind of silly, he'd been so sweet and patient that she'd quickly relaxed and had fun playing with him until they reached the inevitable point where he'd rip off her costume in a frenzy of passion and proceed to make mind-blowing, out of control love to her.

And yeah, they'd also done other stuff like talk and eat, but there'd mostly just been a lot of sex. And as far as she was concerned, that was exactly the way it should be.

Lips curling up in a smile at the memories they'd made so far, she stirred and looked around. Where was Damon? The slightest flare of irrational panic flared through her. He should be here in bed with her.

Then her ears also woke and attuned themselves, allowing her to detect the sound of running water from the adjacent room.

 _Ooo_ , she thought, panic replaced by delight, _Damon naked in the shower. Yes, please._

She abandoned the warmth of the bed and walked to the bathroom. She didn't have any clothes on and was still all tingly from last night. And earlier this morning.

The shower's glass door was fogged with steam, but she could still make out the hazy shape of his body. Her mouth watered. She pulled the door open. With water and suds sluicing over the flawless expanse of his pale flesh, he looked like a gorgeous, masculine Adonis. A wet dream come true. Literally.

She pretended to pout. "You weren't in bed. We were supposed to have sleepy morning sex."

He grinned at her from beneath black locks of hair plastered to his forehead. "Sorry, princess, I was trying shower real quick and cook breakfast before you woke. Guess not, though, huh."

"It's okay." She slipped inside the shower, joining him under the hot spray of the shower nozzle. "This way actually works out, because now we can save water."

"Your logic is impeccable."

She placed her hands on the smooth, chiseled wall of his stomach and slowly started journeying upwards. "And while I don't have any fantasies that involve you dressing up like a cat - "

"Your loss. I make one hell of a sexy kitty-cat." He batted his eyelashes. "Meow."

She narrowed her eyes, unable to prevent herself from envisioning him in ears and a tail and nothing else. "I can't tell if you're joking or not." Her fingertips ghosted over his nipples, felt them harden to stiff points. " _Anyway,_ I do have this one fantasy where you're in the shower."

"I hope you're in there with me."

"Oh, definitely." She was still playing with his nipples, circling around and around.

"What else happens in this fantasy of yours?" His hands were gliding slowly down the backs of her arms, leaving invisible sparks in their wake.

"Lots of stuff."

"I'm all ears." He looked down between them, then back up with a lopsided smile. "Well, not _all_ ears."

She pressed her palms flat on his pecs. "For starters, you're definitely always completely naked."

He waggled his eyebrows. "Check."

"And all glisten-y." She dipped her head and licked a water droplet off his collarbone to illustrate her point.

"Batting a thousand so far." He sounded a little hoarse.

"And all…," her hands dropped to waist level and she grabbed him, "like this."

He'd already been well on his way to standing at full attention, but her touch finished the job.

His lids descended until only a sliver of blue shone through dark lashes spiked together with moisture, glittering like diamonds. "Naughty little girl."

He advanced on her, forcing her to give ground. Her backside fetched up against cool, wet tiles. He placed his hands on either side of her, caging her in, and leaned in really closely. "Do I get to fuck you now? Is that part of your fantasy?"

She didn't have to answer him, because he already knew what her answer was. Good thing, since she was too aroused to make coherent sounds.

When a hand drifted down to her breast, it wasn't possible for her to do anything but experience the sensation of his thumb brushing over her nipple, granting him a direct line to all the nerves in her body. Her skin suffused with a warmth that wasn't even the least bit due to the heated water beating down around them.

"How do you want it, Elena?" he inquired huskily, still skillfully fondling the pebbled nub.

As a response, she exhaled, "Damon!" That was literally her answer to his question. As long as he was inside her, she didn't care – it didn't matter!

Questing fingers skimmed over her rib cage and down her taut, tan stomach, gently stroked the heated juncture between her legs. "Slow and sweet? Fast and hard?"

"Yes," she breathed.

Amused, he met her gaze directly. The sensual impact of those eyes, blue as a clear, cold winter sky, sent an electric shock skittering through her right down to her toes. She wondered if she'd ever get used to them, if they'd ever lose their power to affect her so deeply.

Probably not.

Cupping her ass, he lifted her up like she weighed nothing. She hooked lissome, supple legs over his waist and brought her hands to his biceps, feeling the coiled power there as he supported her. Her eyes were wide, dark, looking nowhere but at him as he penetrated her, wedding them together in an exquisite, unparalleled communion.

He drew back and slid between her tender thighs again, over and over, keeping her pinned against the wall. He was relentless yet gentle, his thrusts steady, a sublime rhythm for giving rapturous pleasure. As their bodies moved together, their very breaths aligned and echoed in tandem in the confines of the shower.

His compelling gaze still held her hostage, made her feel like an insect trapped in slow moving tree sap, a viscous fluid that would eventually harden and freeze her in place forever within a beautiful amber shell. She didn't want to look away, couldn't summon even the slightest inclination to free herself.

He stared back, seeing her also, all of her right down to her soul. She had no defenses anymore. Every emotion was unveiled. He divined her desire and her love and even the fear that still lurked inside her, the minute sliver of apprehension at the possibility that he might leave her again, that she might lose him _._

To allay this lingering doubt, he whispered, "You're fucking everything to me, sweet angel. _Everything._ You know that, right?"

She nodded.

"I'm not going anywhere," he continued, "not now, not ever. I'm yours as long as you'll have me."

"Promise me, Damon!" Her hands rose from his biceps to cup his pale, handsome face. "Promise me this is forever."

"I promise."

Maybe it was the way his voice broke with the intensity of his passion. Maybe it was the guileless, transparent blue of his eyes. Whatever it was, she believed him. Any residual misgivings flowed out of her like water and spiraled down the shower drain, gone for good, never to take root in her heart again.

He claimed her mouth in an ardent kiss, and her arms wound around his neck. This, the man of her wildest dreams, his taste, his scent, the way he made her feel so alive, was hers forever.

The pressure and friction he was generating between her legs crescendoed to a single point and erupted, radiating shock waves of pure sensation through every fiber of her being.

As she splintered into a thousand tiny pieces, there was joy in her heart, a joy that tethered her fractured parts which bliss had sent freewheeling through space and kept her from completely losing herself.

Swept along with her, Damon groaned her name into her mouth and tensed all over. She could feel his pulsating release, hot and deep inside her.

Some indeterminate amount of time later, the fragments of her self came slowly back together until she was whole again. But she didn't think she was quite the same as she was before. And she made up her mind that that was a good thing.

Maneuvering them both back under the hot spray of water, still inside her, her enervated legs still somehow hugging his waist, he pressed his forehead to hers and grinned. "Your fantasy was amazing."

She made a soft sound of agreement, then, "You can go make breakfast now."

He laughed. "Okay, but that means I have to put you down first."

She pouted. "Oh, I forgot about that. Nevermind, then."

Despite what she'd said, she reluctantly unlocked her legs from around his waist and let him slowly lower her back to the tile floor. When he pulled out, she felt devastatingly empty.

As he was exiting the shower, he glanced back. "Any requests?"

"Coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. And bacon. And pancakes."

He tweaked the tip of her nose. "Done."

After he left, she quickly shampooed and rinsed and got out. On the outside of the shower door, Damon had thoughtfully draped a white terry cloth robe. She slid it on, relishing sheer luxury of the soft, fluffy fabric gliding over her freshly cleansed skin. She sat down on the edge of the nearby tub to brush the tangles out of her hair.

As she was finishing up, Damon strolled in wearing only a pair of jeans with the top button unfastened and no shirt.

"Hey, shouldn't you be downstairs making coffee and food?" she asked teasingly.

The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. "Oh, I would be, but, see, it's just that I have this girl, and she's insatiable. Can't keep her greedy little paws off me."

"Me?" she said indignantly, then realized he was teasing her back. She stuck her tongue out at him. "It is not my fault if you're too old to keep up."

"Ouch." A smile appeared on his face, though it quickly vanished. He sat down next to her on the tub ledge. "Actually, I wanted to give you something. I was planning to wait until later, but …. well, nothing ever seems to go as planned with us, and I did just promise you forever so it seemed sort of fitting." He held out his hand. Resting on his palm was a ring box.

"What is it?" she asked nervously, not taking it.

"Open it and see."

While ostensibly innocuous, she accepted it gingerly, as though suspicious that it might at any moment suddenly sprout teeth and attempt to bite her. "You don't have to keep giving me things. I don't need - "

"Just open it." As an afterthought, he added, "Please."

With a deep inhale, she lifted the lid. Then released an equally deep exhale. There was a ring in it. A diamond engagement ring. The diamond itself was huge and round with flawless clarity. Deep blue sapphires flanked it on either side, the same deep blue as the lapis lazuli stone on his daylight ring. The band was white gold.

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. For an agonizingly long minute, words failed her. Finally, she was able to get out, "It's beautiful."

"Yeah, I, uh, found it looking through some stuff in the attic. It was my mother's."

"Lily," Elena said softly. All she knew of the woman was that she had died of a horrible disease when Damon and Stefan were young and that they had loved her very much.

Confusion wormed its way through her. "I don't understand. What is this? Why are you giving me your mother's engagement ring?"

"When I saw it, all I could think of was you and that it should be yours. I don't know, I guess I just thought that maybe you'd like to wear it." A deep crease showed upon his forehead. "Until, you know, you're ready for your own. Assuming you ever are, of course."

She swallowed. "Are you sure Stefan doesn't mind if you give it to me?"

He smiled thinly. "Finder's keepers."

"Damon, she's his mother, too."

"I don't want to talk about my brother right now."

Of course, what was wrong with her? She gave herself a stern mental shake and stared at the diamond ring in her hand. Catching the sunlight that flooded through the window over the tub, the jewels winked and glittered almost as if they were alive. Meanwhile, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions roiled within her.

It wasn't that she didn't want to wear his ring, because she did. She really, _really_ did. But it was definitely too soon to accept something like this. And sure, they'd just promised each other forever, but this was a really big, next level type of step. They were supposed to be taking things slowly. She didn't want them to rush their relationship and make a huge mistake. She didn't want this to just be one of his impulses that he'd eventually regret.

And yet they had been through so much in such a short time that it didn't feel too soon, not if she was being honest with herself. She likened their relationship to a bar of steel that had been exposed to fire and beaten and hammered and stuck back into the fire and beaten and hammered on some more until it was forged into the proper shape, an unbending, unbreakable blade with a razor keen edge. They now stood together on the other side of the fire, stronger and wiser.

Plus, there was the simple fact that she already knew she wanted to be with him forever. She had learned how horrible it was to not have him in her life, and she never wanted to go through that ever again. She believed with all her heart that what they had was real. Powerful. Unique. A once in a lifetime love worth fighting for. This man who had once been nothing to her but a stranger that she'd met one dark night in the middle of a lonely road had turned out to be her soulmate.

No, she resolved, the only huge mistake she could make was letting fear stand in the way of her happiness, her chance at true love. She deserved to be happy, to live the life that she wanted. And she wanted that life to be with Damon.

While she silently worked through all that, Damon cleared his throat uncomfortably. "This was a terrible idea, wasn't it?" He stretched out his hand. "You know what, just forget I - "

"No! I mean, yes!" She clutched the open ring box to her chest so he couldn't take it from her. "I want to wear it."

One side of his mouth curled up tentatively. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

With a trembling hand, she pulled the ring out of the box and went to put it on, but she hesitated, unsure which finger to put it on. He plucked it out of her grasp and stood, helping her to her feet at the same time. Then, slowly, with the air of someone performing a profound ritual, he slid the ring down her left ring finger.

She looked at in wonder, then up at him. "It fits perfectly."

"I thought it might."

She glanced back down at her hand, contemplating everything this gorgeous, sparkly ring represented for their future together, a future that for a time she'd thought would never be possible. Her eyes misted over with tears. "I love you so much, Damon."

"I love you, too, Elena, more than I can ever put into words. I want forever with you."

She rose on her tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "I promise I'll take good care of it for the next generation of Salvatores." She turned slightly pink. "I mean, if we ever get to that point."

"Vampires can't procreate, remember? If we could, it would've happened by now, trust me. There'd be beautiful little blue-eyed babies running around all over the place."

She frowned slightly, not enjoying the reminder of his libertine past. At the same time, though, her ovaries exploded like Fourth of July fireworks at the thought of his 'beautiful little blue-eyed babies.'

"I was thinking we could adopt," she told him. "I was adopted, after all, remember?"

"How could I forget?" he commented dryly. Then his look grew doubtful. "I don't know if I should be trusted with another person's upbringing and moral development."

"Oh, I think there's hope for you yet. It wouldn't be for a long time, until we were both ready. And if we ever are, we'll do it together."

He still had a light grip on her hands. His thumbs began to stroke over the delicate bumps of her knuckles. "Maybe we could start with something small first."

"A puppy!" she exclaimed with delight.

He squinted. "I was thinking something even smaller, like a goldfish or a ficus tree."

"A puppy!" she repeated, employing her sweetest smile.

"You might be able to talk me into a puppy," he grumbled.

"Talk! I have a much more effective method of convincing you than that." She hooked her fingers in the belt loops on his jeans and tugged him closer.

"Mmm, at this rate, I'll be cooking you dinner instead of breakfast." It wasn't a complaint; his eyes gleamed eagerly.

She smiled as he slipped her robe down over her shoulders. It puddled around her feet. "I'm strangely okay with that. It's not like there's any reason to be in a hurry, not when we have forever."

"Forever," he echoed back as if he couldn't quite believe his luck.

Then, his hands were on her bare skin, lips whispering along her jaw, and there was no more room in her head for thoughts of anything except the man with whom she knew in her heart she was going to spend the rest of her immortal life.

 _ **The End**_

* * *

 _So that's it for this story. I feel like I get weird and cheesy when they don't have anything to fight about, LOL. I'm already planning my next D &E story, so I'm going to focus on that. :)_

 _I know I stretched the characters almost to their breaking points throughout this story, and I'm very aware that what I find funny/entertaining/sexy to write is not necessarily funny/entertaining/sexy to other people, so I've been quite surprised and humbled and at times overwhelmed by the kindness and support from you, my dear readers, as I was working on this story. Please know that you have all of my heartfelt gratitude, and thank you so much for reading. I'd love to hear what you thought of my story. :)_

 _As always, all my best,_

 _JustiniaK_


End file.
